In The Dark
It started the night they moved in together. They'd gone patrolling, then said goodbye to the others and walked back to the dorm. Willow had already changed and gotten into bed; Buffy was rummaging through still-packed boxes, trying to find pajamas and toothpaste.
"This'll be fun," Willow said. She rolled onto her side and pulled up the sheets. "Like a never-ending sleepover."
"Oh, god. Tell me Cordelia's not about to show up with a stack of Cosmos and some funky green facial mask made out of kelp or something."
"Ugh. That stuff smelled like dead fish."
Willow watched as Buffy reached deep into a duffel bag and pulled out a nightgown. "Success." She turned her back while she got undressed. Willow averted her eyes, like a good roommate.
"Ready for me to turn out the light?" Buffy asked, pulling back the covers on her bed.
"Mm hmm."
There was a click, and the room was dark. A few minutes of quiet rustling, as Buffy settled in and got comfortable.
Willow was about to say goodnight, but Buffy spoke first.
"Hey, Will, this is kind of embarrassing, but I think it's better to just get it out in the open."
"Of course." Her voice was smaller than she meant it to be. "Did I do something to annoy you on our very first day?"
"No, Will, it's nothing like that. It's just...while we're living together, there are going to be occasions when one of us needs a little...alone time. You know what I mean?"
"Oh, yeah, definitely," Willow said, relieved. "Even really good friends can get on each other's nerves if they spend too much time together..."
"No." Buffy's voice was a little strained. "That's not what I mean."
"Okay. What do you mean?"
"You know." She sighed. "God, this is hard. Do you ever engage in a little...Willow-on-Willow action?"
"Oh. That." Willow could feel herself blushing in the dark. "Um." She tried to adopt an academic tone. "There's no need to be embarrassed about it. According to the book my mom gave me when I was twelve, everybody does it."
"And the role of Hippie Health Teacher will be played by Willow Rosenberg..."
"So, are you saying that we should have a system, like hanging a scarf on the doorknob? Oh, or we could have a codeword! Like 'I'm going to go back to the room and 'alphabetize my CDs'..."
Buffy cut her off. "See, the thing is, it's actually pretty predictable for me. That thing Faith said about patrolling and slayer adrenaline? She wasn't wrong."
"So you mean..."
"Every night. Unless I'm, you know, with someone. It's kind of non-negotiable."
"Oh. Oh." Willow felt breathless, suddenly, and a jolt of heat shot through her body. She couldn't believe the effect it had on her, the thought of Buffy, lying four feet away, so turned on that she wanted to touch herself...
Stop. Breathe. "Okay, well, I can go down to the lounge for a while." She sat up. "Just let me put on some clothes."
"No, Wills, I don't want to kick you out every night. I guess I'm just asking if you mind if I, you know. With you here."
A twist in her gut, a sharp pulsing in her groin. "No," she said hoarsely. She cleared her throat. "I don't mind."
"Okay," Buffy said, her voice suddenly small. "Thanks."
There was a moment of silence. Neither of them moved. Willow's body was taut, aching. She could feel herself just beginning to get slick.
"Well, now I'm embarrassed," Buffy said finally. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought this up. Now everything's weird."
"No," Willow said. Her throat was dry. She shifted on the bed, tensing her thighs together for a minute. She wasn't sure she'd ever been this aroused. "It doesn't have to be weird." She took a breath. When she spoke again, it was so quiet, she wasn't sure Buffy would hear her. "Does it make you wet?" she asked. "Fighting demons and all that?"
She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Buffy gasp. "Yeah," Buffy said. Her voice was husky. "Like you wouldn't believe. Like need-new-underwear-afterward wet."
Willow bit her lip. All those times, practically every night they'd known each other, and she'd never had any idea. All those nights, Buffy flushed and wound up, dying to be touched. Moving through cemeteries and alleyways, her body thrumming, a wet spot growing in the crotch of her panties. Willow ran a hand over her t-shirt, the soft mound of her breast. She scratched a fingernail across her nipple, felt it tighten into a hard little nub. She squeezed it through the fabric.
She looked over toward the other bed. The room was dark, but she could see the stretched-out shape of Buffy's body beneath the covers. She could see...god, she could see movement. Buffy's arm was bent, Willow could see the silhouetted triangle of the elbow, and her hand was moving somewhere below her waist, jerky and rhythmic.
Willow inhaled sharply. "You're doing it," she said, her voice soft with wonder. "I can see you."
The movement slowed. "Don't stop," Willow said. "God, this is making me..." Her breath was getting ragged. She put a hand under the sheet and pressed hard, just once, against the rounded swell between her legs.
"Are you..." Buffy's voice was shaky. "Are you going to do it, too?"
She let out a noise somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It was like she'd been waiting for permission. Her movements were frenzied at first, fingers moving fast against her clit, desperate to soften the sharp edge of arousal, before she settled into a less frantic rhythm, a cadence as familiar to her as the sound of her own breath.
She could hear a rustle as Buffy threw off her covers, and then she was moving again, rubbing and sighing, and Willow could hear the soft slap of Buffy's hand working against moist flesh. She could smell them in the air, the scent of the two of them together. Later, she'd think that this was the moment when it changed for her, when it stopped being some kind of free-floating erotic charge and started being about Buffy. She wanted...god, she wanted so much. It was all so clear in her mind, so vivid: how it would feel to move over to Buffy's bed, to replace Buffy's hand with her own. Moving a finger inside that wet heat. Her lips on Buffy's, mouths opening, tongues touching tentatively. Her hands under Buffy's clothes, her fingers on Buffy's breasts. How it would feel to move lower--oh, god. She moaned out loud. How it would feel to touch her tongue to the most sensitive parts of Buffy's body, to feel her moving in response. To make Buffy jerk and writhe and beg. To make her lose control.
Buffy's breath was rougher now, and the tempo of her movements had gotten faster. Looking over, Willow could see the way Buffy was raising her hips, thrusting against her hand, and she imagined how it would feel to press her thigh into that hollow place, to feel Buffy grind against her. To wake up in the morning with Buffy's smell on her skin. She was getting close; they both were. She was going to hear Buffy come, learn the noises she made, and what if...oh god...what if she called out Willow's name as she brought herself right to that edge...
Willow was there, she was coming, crying out again and again, and she could hear that it was her orgasm that triggered Buffy's. The two of them lurching and quivering, together but separate. When it was over, Willow felt shattered and hollow. Emptied out.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the slowing of their breath. Then Buffy laughed softly. "You were right," she said. Her voice was sleepy but cheerful. "It doesn't have to be weird. It's just, like, friends doing something fun together. Like shopping, but x-rated."
Willow didn't say anything. She didn't trust her voice.
"Don't you think?" Buffy said. She yawned. "Kind of surprising, actually, how much it's not a big deal. I mean, it obviously wouldn't work if one of us was gay or something. But two girls between boyfriends...it's like there's this big taboo for no reason."
Willow forced herself to speak. "Yeah," she croaked. "No big deal."
There was the sound of sheets being rearranged as Buffy settled herself, got ready to sleep. "Good night, roomie," she said. "See you tomorrow."
"Good night," said Willow. She turned over, her eyes open in the darkness. The room still smelled like sex. She brought her hand to her face, inhaled. Put a damp finger in her mouth. She didn't want to think about morning, the way Buffy would look at her as if nothing had changed. Didn't want to wonder what she'd do tomorrow night when the same thing happened again.