Day 18 - Body Worship - Buffy: The Vampire Slayer

Willow rolled a handful of various items in her hand - three blonde strands of hair, a mint leaf, the tissue from a recent nosebleed (fresh blood was hard to come by and harder to burn), and an abundance of lavender - before dropping them into a stone bowl she kept on her nightstand. Then she lit a match and ignited the contents, with a tiny bit of help from a mostly-used smudge stick and some wood shavings. There was no way to do rituals one hundred percent correctly, at least not on a reasonable budget and from the comfort of your own home. It was about finding the compromises you could accept. The fire was not supposed to be of chemical origin, so a lighter was out. A match was technically not much better, but she wasn’t about to rub sticks together and start a friction fire every other day. She was supposed to use three locks of hair instead of three strands, but a lock, as it turned out, was actually a ton of hair. Three was not an amount of locks you could remove without having to completely change your hairstyle.

To be fair, the ritual was more about suggesting the general, broad idea of relaxation. She wasn’t casting a spell to make somebody relaxed. The lavender smelled relaxing when it burned, it wasn’t part of the ritual. You also weren’t supposed to talk during it, but there was probably going to be an exception or three made.

The first exception, if you could call it that, came when Willow loudly cleared her throat to signal that she was ready. Buffy came in, looking at her still a little dubiously. Willow had dressed down to a baggy shirt and a long skirt, but Buffy was still in a pair of jeans and a leather jacket with a camisole. She hadn’t even bothered to kick her shoes off. She looked at ease, or at least, not in fight or flight. But she also looked tremendously stressed. There were heavier bags under her green eyes than usual, though Buffy always looked overworked and underslept. Her jaw was a little clenched, makeup applied perhaps a little more thickly than usual, especially her foundation. It didn’t even look uneven, like she was trying to cover something up, she’d either just done too much without thinking or her skin was grayer than she liked.

Buffy gave Willow a slightly questioning look as she motioned like she was taking off her jacket, Willow nodded with a smile. Shrugging out of her jacket, Buffy sat on Willow’s bed and kicked off her boots, wincing just slightly as she did. Willow sat down behind her and gently started to massage her shoulders, but it just made Buffy tense more. Her shoulders and neck were pretty pale indeed. The foundation hadn’t been an accident, she was letting her slayer duties eat up all of her free time, most likely.

Lifting her hands away, Willow leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Buffy’s broad, strong shoulders. She let her head rest in the nape of Buffy’s neck and just held her for a minute, until Buffy finally sighed and seemed to relax, even if just a little. The smell of her leather jacket lingered just faintly, on her skin and in her hair. A fainter but sharper smell of sweat was there too, buried under both of them was some body wash that had probably been applied close to a full day ago now. A day of studying and most of a night of slayer-ing between her and it. Willow probably should have told her to shower before coming over, but the slightly rougher smell of her was also uniquely pleasant.

She pulled back from her hug and reached for the straps of Buffy’s top, but when Buffy seemed to tense just a bit again, Willow pulled her hands back. Instead, she guided Buffy into laying on her back, letting her prop her head up on one of Willow’s pillows. Then she started to rub Buffy’s shoulders again, not feeling her tense up quite as much this time. Willow hadn’t specified that what they were going to do involved a lot of pampering and warm-up touching, but she didn’t figure it was exactly a breach of confidence. Her understanding of Buffy’s love life was that it didn’t involve much of this, but she’d also never gotten any indication that this was off the table. Willow leaned down as she rubbed Buffy’s shoulders and kissed the back of her neck. Her hair also smelled like sweat and leather where her ponytail tucked into her jacket.

Buffy smiled and gave an annoyed little grunt, Willow loudly shushed her.

Willow sat herself below the small of Buffy’s back - that was a more elegant way to put it than saying they were going butt to butt - and moved her hands down from Buffy’s shoulders over her camisole. She found the strap of a bra through the loose fabric and slipped her hand under the fabric, reaching up and unhooking it with an easy and quick motion that seemed to make Buffy jump just a little. Willow pushed the camisole up a bit and Buffy lifted her stomach just slightly to help it up, but lowered back down before she came uncovered. As Willow started to rub her back where the mark of the bra strap remained, Buffy gave a very slight shudder and a long sigh, sinking a little more into the bed.

It was pretty easy to pick up on the fact that Buffy was definitely nervous about the sexuality of it. She was the kind of girl who was completely comfortable being topless around her girlfriends, touching them casually, even a drunken kiss wasn’t unthinkable. But the second you tried to hold her hand, the second you made eye contact for longer than a few seconds, she wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. She had been hesitant about this, but it had also been her idea. Willow was just along for the ride, in some ways. But she was more than willing to have fun on the ride.

Her hands moved gently over the soft skin of Buffy’s back. When she tried more seriously to massage, her fingers were almost immediately rebuffed by knotted muscles that tensed and relaxed like shifting geography. Buffy was impossibly strong for how slight her frame was. She didn’t look especially bulky either. Her arms and legs were well-toned, her shoulders were wider than a lot of girls’, and she never had to struggle with keeping a flat stomach. But her back in particular really showed her strength in a way the rest of her didn’t. When she tensed up it was like she was stretching the skin paper-thin over her strong back. Her shoulders would become arched until there were little hills between her arms and her neck. Her lats and her traps - Willow still remembered most of her anatomy classes, thank you very much - pinched upward and raised until her spine became an almost valley-shape from the small of her back up to her neck. The blades of her shoulders stood out, pale points like knuckles against faded tan. There was a small field of short thin hair radiating across her lower back, golden white like corn silk. As Willow’s hands moved more toward Buffy’s hips, Buffy shifted just a bit like she was being tickled, goosebumps rising and making the little hair stand up.

Making a note to avoid the sides of Buffy’s stomach, Willow reached over and grabbed a mint oil she had left sitting out on her bedside table. It hadn’t been made as a massage oil, but it misted terribly and there was a lot of it, so it had become one. She dripped some into her hand and settled her palm over where the bra mark remained like a sting. Buffy shifted just a little. It wasn’t cold, but it had menthol in it that would make her skin tingle. She covered Buffy’s back and up toward her shoulders - enough so that she finally managed to coax Buffy into untying the straps of her camisole and sliding fully out of it - then lingered on the back of her neck for a long while. Perhaps longer than she needed to. She pulled Buffy’s ponytail out and set the scrunchie on her nightstand.

Then she got up and sat next to the pillow Buffy’s head was on, pulling one of her hands into her lap. Taking another handful of oil, Willow rubbed her wrist with both hands before starting to massage her palm, then up her fingers. She set Buffy’s unmoving hand on her shoulder and massaged down her forearm, then began to rub slowly over her bicep toward her shoulder. Buffy gave her a slightly wry look. Willow returned it, and casually moved Buffy’s hand to her breast. There was an experimental squeeze or two, her hands were certainly strong enough that it could have been something, but Buffy’s heart clearly wasn’t in it.

Willow gestured for her to roll over. Buffy gave a slightly nervous look, but instead of trying to counter it, Willow raised her loose top over her head. It was hard to say if seeing Willow’s breasts made her hesitate more or less, but Willow put Buffy’s hands back on her chest and gestured for her to turn over again. Buffy gave a look that almost seemed anticipatory, then rolled over. Touching your friend’s boobs was all in good fun until somebody started getting turned on.

Instead of immediately going where she was thinking - and where Buffy was probably thinking too, considering she had her arms halfway up like she wasn’t sure if she should cover her chest or not - Willow took Buffy’s other arm into her lap and massaged her other hand the same as she’d done the first. Her fingers kneaded Buffy’s palm and up each of her fingers, then down her forearm. There was a little birthmark in the crook of Buffy’s elbow and she circled it with one oily fingertip before running her hand up Buffy’s bicep up toward her shoulder. She kissed the tip of Buffy’s ring finger, then turned her hand downward and kissed the back like they were courting.

She moved to get into her lap, but before she did, Willow unbuttoned Buffy’s jeans and slid the zipper down. Buffy raised her hips like she was going to let Willow take them off, but instead Willow sat herself on Buffy’s hips. Dripping another palmful of oil into her hand, Willow watched Buffy squirm slightly in place and puff out her chest. Clearly ready to get on with things if not eager for it. But instead Willow leaned forward, setting her hands on the front of Buffy’s shoulders above her chest. Her hands moved up, over the arches of her muscle and to her neck, softly around. Buffy bit her lip and stared at Willow questioningly. Willow leaned further down and pushed her hands up behind Buffy’s ears, lifting her head slightly while bending her own. Then kissed her, first as a peck to let her know her intentions, then more deeply when Buffy was ready to return it. Lips interplaying, Willow darting out her tongue to wet her own lips but finding Buffy’s doing the same. There was a strange, fast food-y taste on Buffy’s breath. She said she was going to eat before she came over, but if Willow had known that meant some crummy burger, she would have offered something. With a pang of remorse, she remembered that Buffy, probably, didn’t see this as any kind of real date.

They still kissed like it was a real date, at least. The longer it went on, the more Buffy seemed to relax and lean into it. Her tongue came out more, her teeth grazed Willow’s lips more, and her back arched more. Willow could feel Buffy reaching past her and trying to shimmy out of her jeans. Instead of helping, Willow remained sitting exactly where she was. Impeding, even.

When Willow broke the kiss and filled her hands with oil again, Buffy puffed her chest out once more. Visibly more eager to get out of the relaxing part and into the exciting part, but Willow didn’t reach for her chest. Instead, drizzling and massaging the oil into Buffy’s stomach. She circled her navel, traced each of her abs and the v-shape their bottom made as they descended into her waistband. There was a hint of rib visible either side at the base of her chest, a pair of little skin imperfections asymmetrical on her belly. More of the tiny, corn silk hair. As her hands played toward the sides again, Willow saw Buffy squirm more actively. Definitely ticklish. But when Willow gripped her hips firmly, Buffy stiffened in place. The more she tensed, the more visible a lightning-bolt vein that disappeared into her waistband became.

Finally, to Buffy’s delight as well as her own, Willow re-oiled her hands and started to massage Buffy’s chest. She circled around and teased it out for a moment, but finally settled them into her palm, squeezing them and running her hands over them. Lifting them, pulling them, making sure they were properly oiled. Buffy gave a loud exhalation as the tingling mint of the oil settled into the sensitive skin of her nipples, then focused on breathing slowly, evenly even if occasionally raggedly. Her arms had been laying at her sides, but they came up high on her shoulders like she was pulling a blanket over herself. Willow pulled her hands away for long enough to bring Buffy’s wrists down to her waist. Setting Buffy’s hands on her hips, Willow went back to work, her hips rising and falling slowly and rhythmically as her hands worked, Buffy’s fingers gripping her skin.

There was definitely an urge to really draw out the teasing, brushing Buffy’s nipples only briefly or focusing her attention elsewhere. But Willow also could only and would only beat around the bush for so long. There were defined tan lines, though fading ones, that almost made for placement markers on Buffy’s chest. If Willow put her palms at their widest point the tips of her fingers practically covered the whole. Her nipples had already been hard before they’d even gotten any attention, but as Willow focused on them, goosebumps around them all came up to meet her touch. Compared to the rest of Buffy’s body, her chest was almost remarkable in just how unremarkable it was. Size and shape so average and perky that likely the only part of bra shopping she had ever struggled with was finding one elastic enough to get around her broad chest. The light pink of her areolas and the dark almost-red of the buds seemed especially loud and especially lewd against the pale sea of the untanned around them. And, even for The Slayer, they were sisters and not twins.

Willow bent down and kissed one, then the other. Then she kept one hand circling gently with her fingers while she reached back behind her with the other. Without looking, she could feel Buffy’s crotch out apart from the rest of her. Through the denim it felt feverishly hot, and as soon as her hand had settled on it Buffy gave a full-body twitch and closed her thighs around Willow’s hand. She hadn’t moved and let Buffy shimmy out of her jeans yet for exactly this reason. It was not, in and of itself, a sexy material. But Buffy’s jeans were tight enough she was practically vacuum-sealed into them. Willow could feel the shape of her sex even through the fabric, and Buffy could feel every slight movement of Willow’s hand just the same. The denim could cling. It could pinch. It could bend, but in doing so would bunch elsewhere. Willow smiled and bit the inside of her cheek, leaning back more to grind the heel of her hand more firmly into Buffy’s crotch, shifting the stiff, thick fabric back and forth. Even through Buffy’s panties, that was going to be a strong sensation. A good sensation or a bad one was subjective, but it was going to have her undivided attention. The one drawback was that Willow wasn’t going to feel it no matter how wet Buffy was getting.

Pulling her hand away, Buffy swallowed heavily before taking a long, focusing inhale and exhale through her nostrils. Looking at Willow in a way she probably intended to be playful, but which just kinda looked needy and tired. Willow had been having her fun teasing, and she could tell herself it was relaxing, but that probably wasn’t entirely true.

She came down off of the bed and pulled off Buffy’s socks, then helped her out of her jeans. The crotch of Buffy’s panties was more soaked than she’d even expected. There really had been a bit too much fun during the teasing phase. She wasn’t sure if Buffy had the will or the desire to tell her to just get things over with, but she had to assume that she would have been informed, one way or another. Buffy’s panties came off too and Willow slipped out of her skirt.

Determined to at least finish what she’d started, Willow took some more oil and - more quickly than she might have earlier - rubbed down Buffy’s feet and calves. At this point, the fine line between eroticism and pampering had become a lot less fine. A foot massage could certainly be erotic, but when you were already anxious to get to the good part, it got old. As she moved back to the bed and sat perpendicular, holding Buffy’s thighs in her lap, she took a little longer massaging them. This was the one place where the line was still pretty ginger. Could be leaned on without being crossed and without it being obnoxious. Willow started at the knee and massaged up both the inside and outside of one thigh at a time, simply not minding if her hand brushed somewhere more delicate as she did so. Each ‘accidental’ bit of contact prompting a sharp hiss through the teeth from the victim. At this point, Buffy was probably wound tighter than she’d been coming in.

Her thighs, hell, the whole of her legs, were longer and more shapely than most people would have had even if they got three wishes. Without becoming bulky, they were broad enough to almost be intimidating. It didn’t feel like there was a single inch of skin on them that was soft or weak when she was flexing, but when Buffy relaxed them Willow’s hands sunk in and could grab firm handfuls of. She had a nice flare to her hips, but everything was too toned to have real thickness to it. Personally, Willow liked a bit of give and a lot of softness, but by pure spectacle, Buffy’s body was something like a unicorn. Few people were built like this, from head to toe. Fewer still got as much power out of it as Willow had seen Buffy throw around.

Then her cunt. Willow stopped beating around the bush after massaging Buffy’s other thigh and gave just a few brief strokes of it before wiping her hands. There would be just enough oil and just enough menthol there to be a little intense without becoming unpleasant. And Buffy groaned under her breath and shifted her hips like she was feeling it. Buffy shaved herself down to the skin, or at least usually did. There was a slight stubble that was probably about as far as she was comfortable letting it grow. Her lips were definitely more… outie… than Willow was used to. If you trailed little ovals around her sex, the narrower you got, the more you’d be brushing against dark pink. Though right now the dominant color was swollen, excited red. Even if Willow hadn’t known where the clit was, it would have been hard to miss. She wasn’t sure if she was even imagining the little heartbeat throbs it seemed to be giving off.

Moving off of the bed and setting a pillow under her knees, Willow pushed one of Buffy’s legs up over her head and rested it on her shoulder, then wrapped her arms around Buffy’s hips and pulled her closer. There was a little, startled noise from up on the bed, followed by a long staccato breath as Willow’s tongue traced up from the bottom of her cunt to her clit. She fluttered her tongue against Buffy’s lips, the wetness tangible and strong-flavored. Metallic and fleshy. When she finally wrapped her lips around Buffy’s clit and flicked her tongue lightly between her teeth, Buffy had started to squirm. One of her hands came down and grabbed Willow by the hair. Willow brought a hand up and pressed a pair of fingers inside, moving it up toward her nose and starting to stroke.

Very quickly, not even a minute after Willow started, Buffy gripped her head so tightly that the roots of Willow’s hair strained, and shuddered with the whole of her body. The lightning-bolt vein in her crotch flared like a subwoofer. She shuddered and clenched from the inside-out around Willow’s fingers.

But it was quick. A high-tempo short-duration burst that Willow was lucky enough to have seen before. Instead of backing down as it ebbed, she pushed harder. Buffy opened her lips and gasped some semblance of consonants that probably didn’t go against the rules of the ritual, gripping Willow’s hair and pulling her face more into Buffy’s crotch. Willow suckled, circled with her tongue, fluttered it back and forth then side to side. Trying to not keep any pattern or rhythm, meanwhile trying to keep her fingers grinding and flexing with mechanical precision and timing.

This time, it was contracted. A couple distinct little events that clustered out from a first shudder. First a great arching, then a great fall. Thighs colliding hard against Willow’s head, then legs bowing out at the knees. Fingers gripping the sheets desperately, and instead of any groan or letters just strong and rapid panting, continuing to raise in pitch until it became a continual whine. A building and building intensity, like a line of causality. Then, finally, a proper and complete release. Buffy went nearly limp, hand leaving Willow’s hair.

Willow wiped her mouth on her hand, rose, and settled into bed. She pulled Buffy next to her and pulled the blankets around both of them. She wasn’t sure if Buffy had fallen asleep until a grumble came from where her head was tucked into Willow’s shoulder.

“Am I… supposed to do you?” Buffy mumbled awkwardly.

“If you want to,” Willow shrugged. “I don’t mind either way.”

“I’m… really sleepy now.” Buffy sighed.

“That’s okay,” Willow stroked her hair a bit, but Buffy seemed to stiffen. Right back to square one.

“That was… nice…” Buffy added after a second.

“But?”

“But I didn’t feel anything… like that…” Buffy’s voice was apologetic. “Sorry.”

“That’s fine,” Willow sighed. “You can’t say you’ve never tried it.”

“Yeah, but…” Buffy shifted nervously. “I kinda feel like I… used you?”

“Eh,” Willow answered, a little melancholic. “I had fun.”

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