A story about Willow and Buffy.
Summary: It's never what you think.
Timeline: Somewhere over the summer between Season 3 and Season 4
Spoilers: Possibly some about the relationships in season 3.
Disclaimer: The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and Fox. Ok, legal out.
A/N: Plot? What Plot?
Just hearing the word sends a feeling of sexual excitement through you when you hear it.
Webster's defines it as enticing someone astray from right behavior.
It's the hunt, the chase and the conquest of what you want. What you need. What you must have.
The four of them sit in the Bronze quietly watching the show.
Buffy, Willow, Xander and Cordelia.
Willow's focus is intent on the stage. Oz is playing with the Dingoes tonight, and as always, her attention is focus on him, her gaze full of love and admiration.
Cordelia and Xander are into each other, arms casually draping over each other's shoulders, occasionally touching or kissing. They're in their own little world, where reality and their surroundings occasionally intrude.
Buffy is alone. And yet, she's consumed. Consumed with something she never realized, never wanted, but now can't deny.
She looks over at Willow, gazing raptly up at Oz, and a strong sense of jealousy courses through her. She is sitting close, so close, she can feel her hip touch Willow's, her arm nestled next to hers, her shoulder in contact.
She can smell her scent, wildflowers and spice and something she can't quite identify. It intoxicates her.
Maybe it's the closeness, or the heat, or the lights, but tonight Buffy realizes something.
She has to have her. Willow has to be hers. The desire in her courses through her blood like a drug. It's beyond want, it's need. The need to touch Willow, feel her, feel her warm breath on her neck, her soft lips pressing against hers. To look in her eyes and see the lust burn in there, as it burns within herself. To bare herself to her, to feel her body pressed next to hers, skin to skin, lips to lips, heat to heat. To be tangled within her arms and legs, touch, kissing, caressing her. Holding her and feeling her hold on. Hear her moans and sighs, whispers and whimpers, make her scream in utter ecstasy. To make Willow feel what she herself feels. Beyond lust, beyond love, beyond want. To make Willow need her , only her, always her.
Seduction. Morality is thrown away, friendship is a joke, fairness means nothing. All that matters is winning. Taking what is yours, and jumping into the burning flames of passion, consumed in each other. You have to win, you have no choice. Because you have to have her, have to own her, or die. Nothing else matters; not your friends, not your family, not your reputation. All that matters is having her.
Buffy slips her hand over Willows, covering it, surrounding it, capturing it. Willow turns to her, and smiles.
"Buffy?" She asks softly, the question having so many levels in Buffy's mind.
"Will?" Buffy replies, her own need carrying out on a note meant only for her, heard only by her; always, only for her.
Does Buffy see something in those soft warm eyes? Does she notice a slight tug at the edge of Willow's lips? Do her nostrils flare, just a little?
Buffy feels the blood course through Willow's veins, the beat of her heart as it gently pulses under her hand. Willow's fingers spread apart, and Buffy slips her own between. Willow squeezes Buffy's hand, then turns her head to look at Oz.
Buffy is in the heights of heaven and the depths of hell. She feels her heart hammering in her chest; this simple touch is consuming her, eating her alive. She can't think; she can hardly breathe. Her breath feels hot and harsh in her throat. She looks at Willow, and notes the line of her neck, the way her small ears are almost covered by her flame colored hair. How she wants to press her lips to the ear, sucking on the lobe, touching it with her tongue, kiss the pulse point behind it.
Her eyes move to her face, how her nose just gently turns up, dusted freckles. How her eyes are large and wide and green like the color of moss on a stone. How her eyelashes gracefully curve out, just the right amount to frame them. She sees her lips, slightly pouted, slightly moist. Buffy hungers for their touch. She wants to kiss them until their swollen, feel them kiss her all over, everywhere. The fire leaps madly within her.
This is wrong, she thinks, as her gaze locks on Willow. She loves Oz. What I'm feeling is wrong, it can never happen. She can't accept that, she won't. I can't help it. Why didn't I ever see it before. God, I need her. I gotta have her. She has to be mine! She has to be MINE!
Buffy watches Willow breathe, the way her breasts rise and fall on each breath. She has to grip the seat tightly with her free hand not to move over, rip open Willow's blouse and take her breasts in her mouth, one at a time, loving them, tonguing them, sucking them. She feels almost dizzy with desire.
Seduction. It can't be controlled. It has a life of it's own. It serves a need deep in all of us, a need so old we can't name it, won't acknowledge it. It calls on the primal hunter in us all; it wants, and doesn't care who it hurts, what it destroys. It pushes us forward to serve that need.
The song onstage ends. Buffy knows that whatever she needs to do, she needs to do now. Any moment Willow will break from her grip, will go to Oz, and her need will again have to be denied. Pushed down. Denied and forgotten, but never really forgotten. It will burn her, and consume her, and kill her.
Do it now, whatever it takes do it NOW!
"Hey, guys, gotta pee," Willow pipes up, breaking Buffy's grip. "Man, way too many mochas" She giggles, and stands up.
It's over, she's leaving. By the time she returns, Oz will be here. She'll be with him, and she knows that what they have together can't be broken. She almost feels shame for her insanity, but can't. The want, the desire, the need is too strong still. She can only think of the pain that's to come, the things she'll have to do to pretend it doesn't exist, isn't so. And the nights, the long lonely nights she'll spend alone, touching herself, thinking of Willow, crying out her name.
She can feel the harsh cry of defeat welling up in her breast. She feels as if her heart has stopped beating. She can't breathe, she can't see, she can't do anything but die.
"Buffy?" Willow touches her shoulder, and nods her head, indicating she should come with.
Buffy, in a daze, stands up. This is your chance, Buffy. Don't blow it. She smiles at the table, shrugs and follows Willow
Buffy follows after Willow like the wolf after a lamb. She can't help but notice the sexy way Willow's ass sways in front of her.. The way her whole body seems to move during her walk. It just stokes the fires, focuses her mind on the goal. To take her, to have her.
Seduction. It's tricky, and sneaky. It never reveals it's true face. It's a lie, a way to fool the victim, to surround them and capture them even before they know what hit them. Manipulation, deceit, temptation and lures. It's all about control. Who has it, who uses it, and who doesn't.
Willow enters the bathroom first, followed closely by Buffy. She stands, her back to Buffy, facing the far wall.
Now, Buffy, do it here; do it now, Her lust cries out, taking over. Go to her, overwhelm her, take her. She's yours if you just don't back away. Claim your prize! She's yours for the taking!
Buffy, her body a volcano, her mind consumed by her lust, throws everything to the wind. She moves to Willow, surrounding her in her arms, pressing herself against her warm, soft body.
"Will," Buffy says hoarsely, her need out of control. Take her, TAKE HER. She's not resisting. TAKE HER!
"No talk, Buffy," Willow turns around in her arms, and Buffy almost stops breathing.
She sees her own lust reflected in Willow's face. Her eyes are lidded, her mouth wet and lips parted, her face flushed. Her nostrils flare, her breathing is shallow and ragged. Buffy suddenly feels the balance shift, the world tilt, the rules change.
Willow almost sways in Buffy's arms, her body rubbing against Buffy, heating up her already overheated lust. Her arms slither like a serpent around Buffy's neck, and her legs wrap like a constrictor around her waist. She hoists herself up on Buffy's hips, her body sliding against Buffy in a sinuous, serpentine motion.
Like the cobra, Willow strikes, her mouth pressing hard against Buffy's, her tongue seeking entrance.
Buffy, consumed, feels her mouth open, welcoming Willow's invading tongue. It slithers over hers, capturing hers, pulling hers in. It caresses, and dances, touches and commands. Buffy is helpless, and wants no help. She surrenders before she even knew she was in battle.
Buffy slams Willow against, the wall, and their hands move like dancers over each other, seeking, touching caressing. It's everything Buffy dreamed, and more. She feels Willow's hands slide under her shirt, moving up and cupping her breasts. Her own hands fumble with Willow's buttons; she's rewarded when she opens Willow's blouse and reveals that Willow isn't wearing a brassiere. Sighing happily, she lowers her head to Willow's breast.
Willow moans as Buffy's mouth surrounds her hard, throbbing nipple. Her groin presses into Buffy's stomach, wanting, demanding release.
"Yes, Buffy, yes baby God yes, do that, do that, god yes!" She cries, her body moving to a primitive, sexual rhythm only the two of them can hear.
Buffy feels Willow's nipple harden in her mouth, and she bites on it, eliciting a loud, grateful moan from the lust consumed redhead. Willow hands cup Buffy's breasts through her bra, the thumbs slipping under the cups and rubbing against Buffy's already hardening nipples.
Willow slips down off her hips, and gently oh so gently she pushes Buffy back. Reaching around, she unhooks Buffy's bra, and slips it down, revealing her breasts. Willow, the hunger clear in her face, lowers her head and takes one of Buffy's pink nipples in her mouth, suckling it like a child.
Buffy holds Willow's head close, cradling it as rivers of fire slam into her dampening pussy. She pants, Willow's tongue and lips making her crazy, so crazy. Her hands reach down, and she slips them under Willow's waistband, feeling the heat as they approach Willow's overheated mound.
For awhile they just lose themselves in their mutual lust. They touch each other intimately, driving the lust to burn hotter, brighter and deeper. Finally, panting heavily, Willow pulls away, stopping the game.
"Not now," Willow pants softly, gazing lustily at the overheated slayer. "We… have to go back, pretend this hasn't happened. No one can know, Buffy." She moves closer, slipping into Buffy's arms. "No one can ever know. It's our secret, Buffy. Yours and mine."
"I love you, Will," Buffy is panting, trembling, her whole body on fire. "I need you! I want you now!"
"Later, lover. Come to me later on tonight. In my bedroom. We'll have all night together." She looks into Buffy's eyes. "I don't want it like this, in the ladies room. I want it to be slow, and loving, and to last. God, I want it to last all night."
"What about Oz? What about…?"
"Shhh, baby," Willow says, her hand slowly wandering over Buffy's back and ass. Buffy feels each touch as fire, soft warm fire that threatens to consume her, burn her, turn her into a cinder. "You and me, Buff. Just you and me. No one else needs to know. No one else matters. Just you and me." Her lips seek and find Buffy's neck.
"But… it's wrong… we'll hurt …" Buffy mumbles, but her mind is melting under the flames of her desire. Her hands mimic Willow's touching her everywhere she can reach.
"It's not wrong, it's right," Willow nibbles on Buffy's neck. " It's so right, can't you see?" Her hand slips under Buffy's waistband, gently caressing the soft skin of Buffy's ass. "Do you want me, lover? I want you, I need you. Will you come to me?"
Her finger slips between Buffy's thighs, and touches her dampened slit. Buffy pants softly, and realizes she can't refuse her. Anything, anytime, anywhere.
"Do you want me Buffy?" Willow repeats, rubbing her gently," Just tell me. Just say yes, and I'm yours."
"Yessss," Buffy hisses, her passion out of control. Her hands slip under Willow's waistband, sliding over and cupping her ass.
Willow smiles, realizing her plan, her nasty little plan, has finally come to fruition. The little touches, the 'accidental' bumps against her. The scent she wears, innocently enticing. The way she always stands so close to Buffy, never giving her space. The looks, shy but promising more. Pushing up close to her, gently breathing on her neck, putting her arms around her in ' friendship'. The hugs, close, so close and warm. The shy little kisses on her cheeks. The smiles, just for her. Holding her when she hurts, supporting her when she feels strong. Letting Buffy think she is in control, that she is the aggressor, the hunter. Pretending not to notice Buffy's growing interest, pretending to be ' just her friend'.
And finally, pulling the strings, hooking her, and slowly, patiently reeling her in.
She has her prize. Now she just needs to take it.
Willow closes her eyes, savoring Buffy's touch, and her own sweet victory.
Seduction is a joker, a trickster, and a thief. It laughs at you when you think you're in control. It tempts you and teases you, showing you only smoke and mirrors. It's never what it seems to be.
More often than not, the seducer turns out to be the seduced.