Buffy Beaten update

It might’ve gratified Willow to know that Xander came to her house that morning wanting the same thing Buffy had the other night: to bask in the calming aura of her friendship and put aside some of the demons that plagued him. On the other hand, she might’ve felt slighted to know that another person she was highly attracted to wanted her for only platonic services. At any rate, Xander let himself in through the front door, heedlessly thinking that if he was awake, surely Willow was too.

“Willow? Hey, Will, where you at?” he called, his voice echoing through what seemed like an empty house. Conceding that Willow was probably in her bedroom, but not yet considering that she was asleep, Xander hustled up the stairs and went to her door. “Willow, c’mon, you up?”

He knocked at the door. No answer. Still without thought, Xander turned the doorknob, thinking innocently only to check on the potential occupant.

He swung the door open to find Willow and Buffy together. In the sunny California morning, they had slipped free of the covers, needing only each other’s embrace to be warm. They were together from their foreheads to their toes, every inch of them wrapped around the other. More than that, both of them were softly petting each other without conscious thought, as if even in sleep, they wished to sample the girlish wonder of their bodies, pert and nubile and utterly flawless, from Willow’s freckled pallor to Buffy’s sunny tan. Even after having seen the glamorous perfection of Cordelia’s body, the combination of Buffy and Willow—casual innocence and the most obscenely pornographic sin—was the erotic equivalent of a punch to the gut. Xander’s erection sprang into prominence so quickly that he had to immediately fumble it out of his pants for fear of it breaking in the confined space otherwise.

Once he’d done that, it was a simple matter to start masturbating. It felt like a cure-all to the crazy Cordelia fuck-up, the universe’s way of rewarding him for standing up for himself. He wasn’t going to turn down the universe’s reward of pert breasts, creamy thighs, supple buttocks, and svelte legs…

He might’ve been right about that. For, as if in answer to the frustrating interruption of the other night, Willow woke up to the telltale sound of Xander moaning. There was no mistaking what he was doing.

She laid there, in Buffy’s arms, breast to breast with her, feeling a sticky wetness between her thighs as Xander masturbated—that moist noise could only be him masturbating. She breathed in the scent of sweetly sleeping Buffy and felt even more impossibly turned on. It was all like some kind of kinky bondage scenario. She was so aroused that if she touched herself, she would come harder than she ever could’ve before Buffy had interrupted her. Her heart pounded. What is wrong with me? She wondered. It’s Xander… fucking Xander… he’s probably just rubbing one out for Buffy…

Then she heard him. He was practically whimpering under his breath, but she could make out what he was saying. “Suck me, Willow… suck this hard cock… lick some prick until I come in your mouth… suck it, suck it… Gawd!”

Sweat ran down Willow’s face as she clenched her thighs together, corded muscle against corded muscle, putting delirious but insufficient pressure on her sex. Still, she had to stifle a cry of pleasure. It felt so good. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from telling Xander that she would, she would suck his cock, if only he’d bring it a little closer…

But it wasn’t just his cock. She wanted him. Whatever perverted desires were going through his head as he got himself off, she wanted to do all those things for Xander. She wanted to feel his cock inside her. She wanted to taste it, it and the seed it had to deliver. Unthinkingly, she rubbed herself against Buffy, bringing herself some relief as pleasure mounted in her aroused body. Just please, fuck me first. Not Buffy. Not Buffy.

“Mmmm.” That moan didn’t come from Xander or herself. It was Buffy’s, a sweetly happy sound as the Slayer worked her way into consciousness. Xander heard it too. He cursed under his breath, zipped himself up, and fled. Willow wanted to call out to him. No. Don’t go. Come back. But she didn’t dare give herself away to Buffy. Buffy wouldn’t understand.

Willow closed her eyes and played dead, pretending total ignorance of Buffy’s awakening until the blonde kissed her lightly on the lips. “Wakey-wakey, Will. Guess who gets to wake up in California again?”

Willow groaned, play-acting like it was from coming awake and not the deferral of her lusts, her arousal dying back to an ingratiating fever pitch from still having Buffy lovingly wrapped around her. “Morning, Buff.”

Buffy kissed the tip of her nose. “I figured there was no way for me to get up without waking you, so I might as well wake Sleeping Beauty with True Love’s Kiss as anything else.” She puckered her lips again, this time aiming at Willow’s cheek. “And you are the truest love a girl could ask for.”

“I don’t know about that,” Willow muttered. As Buffy moved away from her, her body felt too weak to support its own weight. “I could imagine a girl asking for more.”

Ignorant of her murmurs, Buffy went to pick up her clothes. “Thanks for the naked sleepover, Will. I feel way better. Maybe the nudists are on to something.”

“Maybe,” Willow said, staring fixedly at Buffy as her nakedness disappeared into her clothes. She couldn’t believe that she had spent the whole night naked, in Buffy’s arms, yet she was still a virgin by any standard. At this rate, her best chance at losing it was meeting a rapist. Maybe she should try online dating…

Well-rested, Buffy was at a level of chipper that seemed biologically impossible without coffee. “I’m going to go see the G-Man, see if there’s any 411 to download on demon current events. There’s got to be something going on in Sunnydale, and this weekend, I am definitely taking it out.”

“Okay,” Willow said agreeably. “Buffy?”

Buffy paused on her way out the door. “Yeah, Will?”

“You’re a really good cuddler.”

Buffy nodded. “Anytime. I could see Willow-cuddling becoming my favorite hobby.”

***

Downstairs, Xander helped himself to some Pop-Tarts. As long as he was here, he might as well get some food. He felt like he had a headache in his dick and it was hard not to blame that on Willow a bit. 

As he waited for the toaster, his cell phone tinged. He looked at it. A text from Miss French. PRIVATE TUTORING SESSIONS THIS WEEKEND. IF YOU’RE INTERESTED, COME OVER. I’M SURE YOU CAN LEARN A LOT. Then there was an address.

It might’ve been presumptuous, but it was hard for Xander not to think about what he’d said to Cordelia about getting tutored. Now that he was in her shoes, was he going to pass up some sex just because, what, it was a teacher? 

Of course, it could be she really did only mean to teach him about Biology. That was a risk he’d just have to take. 

He heard boots clomping down the stairs. Buffy. Xander was in no mood to explain being in the area while she and Willow were all post-coital. He let himself out the backdoor.

Buffy arrived in the kitchen just as the toaster went off. Usually, it might have struck her as strange to find two Pop-Tarts shooting up unannounced, but she was in the middle of a haze of relief. The dark night of her mom’s threesome was over, she’d absorbed affection from Willow until she was fit to burst, and the alcohol had passed out of her system. Even if Joyce was still a slut, Buffy felt somewhat better about it. She herself had stripped naked and fallen asleep in Willow’s arms. She could think of a lot of people who would call that perverted. Was it fair for her to call Joyce perverted—even if she fucked two guys at once? 

Yes and no, she guessed. Joyce was something of a porn star, but Buffy told herself not to take issue with that. She’d go home, mind her own business, and hope that Joyce extended the same courtesy to her slaying. Which, with luck, would bear more fruit than it had lately once she touched base with Giles. She didn’t like going so long without killing anything demonic. It made her feel like she had a backlog or something.

Buffy munched on the Pop-Tarts, still overlooking who had started their toasting, when Cordelia barreled through the door. Naturally, she wore a full ensemble, hair and make-up, without a hint that she’d spent the better part of the morning satisfying herself. Or, at least, touching herself. Even now, Cordelia’s face with radiant with arousal, her body glowing under her chic fashion. She was amazed by her own passion. She’d always thought there was something uncool—something a bit slutty—about getting hot, getting turned on. When she imagined herself doing It, it was always with a sense of smug superiority, a wry amusement over how lost a guy would get in her beautiful body. Now she wondered what Xander was doing. Probably pumping his prick somewhere. Or having someone else do it for him, judging by his sudden flirting with self-confidence. Cordelia’s lips trembled. Although she was not quite familiar with the concept of the subconscious, she wondered whether or not that whatever-it-was was the reason she had come to Willow’s.

No. She just needed more booze and Buffy’s family was too cheap to have any of the good stuff. In short order, she found the liquor cabinet. Then she deigned to notice Buffy.

“Oh, so you and Willow, cohabitate much?”

Buffy crossed her arms. “I guess you’re a little unfamiliar with the concept of friends who actually want to spend time with each other.”

“Yeah, it must really strike you as novel, considering what a freak you are,” Cordelia retorted. She pulled a bottle of tequila from the cabinet. “I need a drink.”

“I would’ve guessed therapy, but whatever works for you.”

Cordelia waved a dismissive hand. “Can you please go sublimate whatever your sexuality is into violence instead of stand-up comedy? There have to be some werewolves or something around. Go make yourself useful and slay.”

“Okay, but if it’s mating season, I’m pretty sure any werewolves will be looking for you.” And Buffy left, toting the one remaining Pop-Tart.

Cordelia took a swig from the bottle, then started as what Buffy said hit her. She was joking, right? Even Cordelia wasn’t that horny. 

“Oh, you’re… drinking my parents’ liquor.” It was Willow that had spoken. She stood on the bottom step of the stairs, but made her way into the kitchen. “I was actually kinda hoping they wouldn’t notice any of it was gone…”

“Too bad. You think I want to be in this dump? I can’t get into the liquor cabinet at my place. My parents don’t trust me.” Cordelia took a long gulp from the bottle. “You’re lucky, having stupid parents.”

“Where’d Buffy go?” Willow asked.

“I think she said something about buying a new double dildo. I guess you two broke the last one, huh?” Cordelia shook the bottle. “You want some of this or not?”

“I think you’re supposed to make margaritas with that.”

Cordelia set the bottle down. “Listen—it’s the weekend. I’m guessing your parents are back by Monday?”

“About…” Willow agreed tentatively. 

“What do you think they’re going to do when they come home and find out you’ve had more to drink than Robert Downey Jr. at a Christmas party? No more little sleepovers with the Buffster.”

Willow blushed as red as her hair. “You’re… you’re just saying that.”

“I’m trying to help you out,” Cordelia slurred, the tequila sinking to the bottom of her stomach. She hiccupped. “What if we could get more, huh? We could replace everything we drank and buy new drinks whenever we want, at the Bronze and everywhere.”

“What are you talking about?”

Cordelia took another swig. She knew she had Willow. “I’m talking about fake IDs, Willow. You and me. Let’s go buy some. I’ll get a good price from the guy and you pay the man.”

“Why do I have to pay for them?”

“Because clearly you’re not spending your allowance on Versace. God, Willow, do you want a fake ID or not?”

“I g-guess so…” 

“Good. Now can you either have a drink or turn and face the wall? I don’t like you looking at me when I’m drinking.”