Weaponology (Faith, 1/1)
Apr. 8th, 2010 03:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Faith/Object
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Faith sneaks in to Buffy's room and makes herself very comfortable.
A/N: Incorporates the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
kink_bingo prompt object penetration (objects not designed for sex). Thanks to my beta ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anxiety_junkie for her hard work.
It’s not that she minds Buffy’s taking a vacation. More fun for her, right? Slaying’s a rush and if B can’t handle it she’s more than willing to stand in the limelight for awhile. The words stick her head, and no matter how heavy the blow or how fast the chase, she can’t seem to shake them.
A dozen dustings later, she swings towards the Summers’s house. A friendly check-in, she tells herself, since they’re away. Lying comes easy to her; lying to herself is even easier. She’s had years of practice. So when she scales the roof and jimmies open Buffy’s bedroom window, there’s no conscience that needs soothing.
She lets out a low whistle as she takes in the frilly bedroom. B has herself a really sweet little nest, all tidy and cozy. Not her style, but Faith knows she could get used to an easy life like this. A warm bed and someone else paying the bills is a better deal than she ever got.
Faith sits down on the edge of Buffy’s bed, running her hands lightly over the thick blanket. She hates the hard little knot that lives in her gut these days. Before she lit out for Sunnydale, she thought she was so lucky. Chosen, even. But there are some lies even she can’t swallow. She’s not the Chosen One; she’s just keeping the seat warm.
Still, she decides, it’s a pretty nice seat. Might as well enjoy it while she’s sitting in it. She strips, flinging her clothes carelessly across the room. It’s a wicked bed, all plush and overstuffed, smelling sweetly of dryer sheets and B’s familiar perfume. No point in letting it go unused.
She slides into the bed, belly down, and the crisp fabric of the comforter abrades her sensitive nipples. Faith shivers, as much from the stimulation as from the sick little thrill that pools in her belly. Her hips twitch in anticipation, and the friction against her already aroused cunt draws a moan from her lips. She can’t wait anymore.
She reaches down, parting her slick folds with two fingers. She teases over her clit, dipping in to spread her sticky juices over and around her pussy. She bites her lip, pushing another finger in and fucking herself roughly. She feels around the edges of her orgasm, the pressure building and twisting low in her belly until she’s knotted up with need. Faith rolls onto her back, desperate for more stimulation. She’s panting, thrusting up onto her fingers, and still she can’t quite come.
B has to have something, a little vibrator or whatever. Sure, there’s Angel but he’s not exactly a reliable piece what with the whole soul thing. She figures B must be a pro at self-service.
Faith scrambles over the bed, digging into the little table beside it. She pushes frantically through a bunch of notebooks and lotions and other worthless girly crap until her hand closes around a thick, smooth shaft. It’s a stake, the wood sanded so smooth it’s almost slippery. Faith thinks it might be the one made by the Slayer just before her, Kandra or whatever. It’s Buffy’s favorite and for a minute Faith hesitates…but that girl’s dead and it’s not like Buffy’ll know. She slides it slowly towards her cunt, savoring the tiny sparks of lust that spread across her body.
The stake slides in easily, a smooth slick glide that leaves her gasping. She tilts her hips, rocking back and forth in search of just…the right…angle. A gentle thrust pushes the stake up into her sweet spot and she moans, fucking herself harder against the sturdy wooden weapon.
Her legs spasm, straightening and pushing her off the bed. She clutches the thick handle of the stake, thrusting faster and harder, chasing her orgasm. Her vision gets blurry and she closes her eyes, welcoming the tiny quakes in her belly. She’s begging for it, stuck in frustrating loop of need and desire.
She pinches her swollen clit, and the burn sends her reeling. She comes, a thick gush that soaks her hand and Buffy’s soft blankets. She shudders, her whole body shaking and sweating, almost weak from pleasure.
She should go. Pull the stake from her body and get dressed. But she doesn’t. She needs more and Buffy won’t be back all weekend. Faith can feel the ugly desire coiling in her belly, and she rocks down onto the stake, bumping it into her sensitized clit.
Time for round two.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Faith sneaks in to Buffy's room and makes herself very comfortable.
A/N: Incorporates the
kink_bingo prompt object penetration (objects not designed for sex). Thanks to my beta anxiety_junkie for her hard work.It’s not that she minds Buffy’s taking a vacation. More fun for her, right? Slaying’s a rush and if B can’t handle it she’s more than willing to stand in the limelight for awhile. The words stick her head, and no matter how heavy the blow or how fast the chase, she can’t seem to shake them.
A dozen dustings later, she swings towards the Summers’s house. A friendly check-in, she tells herself, since they’re away. Lying comes easy to her; lying to herself is even easier. She’s had years of practice. So when she scales the roof and jimmies open Buffy’s bedroom window, there’s no conscience that needs soothing.
She lets out a low whistle as she takes in the frilly bedroom. B has herself a really sweet little nest, all tidy and cozy. Not her style, but Faith knows she could get used to an easy life like this. A warm bed and someone else paying the bills is a better deal than she ever got.
Faith sits down on the edge of Buffy’s bed, running her hands lightly over the thick blanket. She hates the hard little knot that lives in her gut these days. Before she lit out for Sunnydale, she thought she was so lucky. Chosen, even. But there are some lies even she can’t swallow. She’s not the Chosen One; she’s just keeping the seat warm.
Still, she decides, it’s a pretty nice seat. Might as well enjoy it while she’s sitting in it. She strips, flinging her clothes carelessly across the room. It’s a wicked bed, all plush and overstuffed, smelling sweetly of dryer sheets and B’s familiar perfume. No point in letting it go unused.
She slides into the bed, belly down, and the crisp fabric of the comforter abrades her sensitive nipples. Faith shivers, as much from the stimulation as from the sick little thrill that pools in her belly. Her hips twitch in anticipation, and the friction against her already aroused cunt draws a moan from her lips. She can’t wait anymore.
She reaches down, parting her slick folds with two fingers. She teases over her clit, dipping in to spread her sticky juices over and around her pussy. She bites her lip, pushing another finger in and fucking herself roughly. She feels around the edges of her orgasm, the pressure building and twisting low in her belly until she’s knotted up with need. Faith rolls onto her back, desperate for more stimulation. She’s panting, thrusting up onto her fingers, and still she can’t quite come.
B has to have something, a little vibrator or whatever. Sure, there’s Angel but he’s not exactly a reliable piece what with the whole soul thing. She figures B must be a pro at self-service.
Faith scrambles over the bed, digging into the little table beside it. She pushes frantically through a bunch of notebooks and lotions and other worthless girly crap until her hand closes around a thick, smooth shaft. It’s a stake, the wood sanded so smooth it’s almost slippery. Faith thinks it might be the one made by the Slayer just before her, Kandra or whatever. It’s Buffy’s favorite and for a minute Faith hesitates…but that girl’s dead and it’s not like Buffy’ll know. She slides it slowly towards her cunt, savoring the tiny sparks of lust that spread across her body.
The stake slides in easily, a smooth slick glide that leaves her gasping. She tilts her hips, rocking back and forth in search of just…the right…angle. A gentle thrust pushes the stake up into her sweet spot and she moans, fucking herself harder against the sturdy wooden weapon.
Her legs spasm, straightening and pushing her off the bed. She clutches the thick handle of the stake, thrusting faster and harder, chasing her orgasm. Her vision gets blurry and she closes her eyes, welcoming the tiny quakes in her belly. She’s begging for it, stuck in frustrating loop of need and desire.
She pinches her swollen clit, and the burn sends her reeling. She comes, a thick gush that soaks her hand and Buffy’s soft blankets. She shudders, her whole body shaking and sweating, almost weak from pleasure.
She should go. Pull the stake from her body and get dressed. But she doesn’t. She needs more and Buffy won’t be back all weekend. Faith can feel the ugly desire coiling in her belly, and she rocks down onto the stake, bumping it into her sensitized clit.
Time for round two.