Title: The Sidekicks' Holiday - Part 6
Author:
CaptMurdock@mac.comFeedback: Yes, lots. I live for people telling me they love my stories…or even if my story sucks, drop me a line.
Summary – My two favorite couples, W/T and Fred & Gunn, each go on little vacations…unwittingly, to the same little hotel. Wackiness ensues. Think of that scene in L.A. Story…well, why spoil it for you?
Spoiler Warning: Buffy: "Entropy" and Angel:"Double or Nothing".
Disclaimer: Joss owns all these characters. Based on recent episodes, however, he doesn't treat them very well, so…
Rating: I may go for the gold on this one (NC-17)
Notes: The story begins the day after "Entropy" and no more than a few days after "Double or Nothing." Assume the two series are running more or less concurrently.
"I dunno how we're going to explain the sheets and stuff," Tara muttered as she soaped Willow's back in the shower. As meticulous as they were in licking one another clean – or, at least, in licking one another – they were still rather sticky from their Battle of the Network Salad Dressings. Since neither of the girls wanted to be away from the other after their months of separation, they came to the ready conclusion of showering together. However, at least in Tara's mind, that wouldn't erase the results of their little combat from the bed, which now looked like several kinds of demon had died there.
"We don't explain anything," Willow replied with a shrug and a pleasured wiggle. Tara's finger did very nice things to the nerves in her back and sides. "What, you think we're the first couple to do the Nasty in their hotel room?"
Tara chuckled. "I-I wouldn't know, sweetie. But I think we set a new standard with the Nasty
Au Jus."
Willow laughed, turned carefully in the cramped confines of the shower/bath, and kissed her lover. Tara dutifully started to clean Willow's front, now that her back was less available. Strong, nimble hands slathered soap over small breasts, lingering there far longer than it was needed to ensure cleanliness. A pair of smaller hands rubbed over the chest, gathered bubbles, and moved to spread the lather on a pair of larger breasts.
Tara raised an eyebrow as she looked down at their soapy bodies, giving her best sultry look, then leaned in to kiss Willow. She gently backed them both towards the showerhead, letting the spray rinse them off head to toe. The water cascaded over them as they held each other, running over faces and closed eyes and sealed lips.
Silently, as rivulets of steamy water ran over their skin, they began to move together, against one another in an ancient rhythm, a dance that women might have practiced from the beginning of time, a dance that no man could know. Lips reluctantly disengaged as heads needed to reposition, to rest on shoulders, to allow bodies to move closer together. Hands moved into the secret places, stroking, spreading, caressing.
The steam rose, obscuring them.
***************
"Remind me to call Guinness," Gunn remarked, having watched his diminutive lover tuck away more food in one sitting than he had ever seen her eat in a day, which already seemed beyond human standards of consumption. They lay on the bed surrounded by several empty dishes, from which steak, chicken, roast beef, fruits, vegetables and various ancillary items had come, dishes which now lay like dead soldiers in a culinary battlefield.
"Mmmmm…Guinness!" Fred exclaimed, licking her fingers clean. "Ah'm not much for beer, but I could use somethin' to wash that down."
"How 'bout Niagara Falls?" he quipped. That earned him a dirty smile and a not-so-affectionate elbow in the gut. "
Oooff! Hey, I'm usin' them ribs!"
"You sho' are, baby," Fred drawled, rolling over on top of him. They had not bothered to get dressed for dinner. Fred had had to hide in the bathroom while Gunn had pulled on his jeans to receive the room service. Before he could join her on the bed upon her return, she had made him take his pants off. "Can't you read the sign?" she had said in her best schoolmarmish tone, pointing to an imaginary sign hanging right above the bed. "No Clothing!" "Yes, ma'am," he had replied, dropping trou.
"Are you sure we should doing this?" he asked her as she was kissing his neck.
She raised up and looked at him sharply. "Oh,
now you're worried about your virtue?"
Chuckling, he answered. "
Naahwwo. I mean, should we be doing, uh, y'know, this kinda stuff, so soon after we ate? Aren't we supposed to wait an hour?"
Fred rolled her eyes. "That's for swimming, ya big galloot!" She attacked him with renewed vigor.
"Oh, my bad-- oh, you're good," he amended, as his nervous system suddenly shifted gear.
Presently, she was straddling his hips again, but this time, he was on his knees, supporting most of her weight, freeing her to move as she needed to. Chest to chest, the two of them moved together with rising passion.
********************
After drying off from the shower, Tara moved to strip the bed. Fortunately, only the ground sheet was really messy; the top sheet and the blanket were okay.
Willow shook her head as she toweled her hair dry. "I'm surprised you didn't bring a washing machine along on vacation."
"I would have, but-but then I wouldn't have had room for the whips and chains," the blonde quipped.
"Whips and chains? Why, Ms. Maclay, were you planning on something…kinky?" Willow smiled, sauntering over to her girlfriend who was re-making the bed.
Tara straightened up, shaking her head. "Oh, no. They were my mother's. I just keep them for sentimental reasons." She gathered Willow in her arms and kissed her passionately.
Since neither one of them happened to be wearing a watch then (or, come to think of it,
anything, really), there was no telling how long that kiss lasted…until a sound of rhythmic squeaking came through the wall.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Willow nearly shouted, breaking contact with Tara's lips with a audible
pop! Tara whimpered at the truncated contact. "Oooh, baby, did that hurt?"
"I think I got bruised lips," she whimpered in her best Mommy-make-it-better voice.
"Well, I'm just gonna haveta kiss 'em and make 'em better!" Willow pecked her lover on the lips.
Tara smiled. "You're so good to me." The squeaking became louder, and now a girlish peal of pleasure sounded out. The young Wiccan looked at her hacker paramour, glanced at the newly-made bed and shrugged. With a sigh, she said, "Once more into the—"
"Uh, nah, no, c'mon, that just sounds, like totally dirty."
"Oh, look who's talking!"
*******************
For the next several hours, the festivities continued inside their respective rooms. The sounds that each couple made only seemed to spur the other on, a perfect example of a feedback loop, as either Willow or Fred would say. While irritating at first, the calls and their eventual response, like the yodeling of the Swiss Alps, like the whistled
silbo language of the Canary Islands, became almost encouraging.
It's hard to say, as dispassionate observers we are, which couple finally succumbed to fatigue first. All that can be said that it was during the small hours of the night, the time that is said to be the loneliest of all, that four young people in love exhausted themselves and their partners, and fell asleep, wrapped in one another.
The approach of dawn went unobserved by the occupants, being on the other side of the hotel from those rooms with an eastern view. Eventually, however, daylight awoke four extremely tired people…and they fervently wished it hadn't.
*****************
"Mother Mary," Gunn muttered as he tried to get out of bed. His legs, unfortunately, just weren't up to the task, so he fell back onto the pillow. "That's it. Stick me with that fork, baby, 'cause I'm a potato ya left in the microwave too long."
"Oh, you are sooo pitiful," Fred shot back, climbing out of bed and walking towards the bathroom. Her gait, however, was so atypical that Gunn noticed it immediately.
"You okay, babe?"
"Heck, no. I am sooo sore..."
"No kiddin'. You gonna be able to stay on that horse, Hopalong?"
As she reached the bathroom door, Fred started singing "I'm An Old Cowhand From The Rio Grande." Gunn laughed, pushing himself off the bed with superhuman effort and following her in.
**************
Someone was calling her name. Over and over again. What vicious beast would torture her like this?
"Willow? Willow?"
Oh, that vicious beast. The one I'm sleeping with – or trying to sleep with, as the case may be. Willow capitulated and forced open eyelids that some joker had obviously Krazy-Glued together while she slept. Focusing her eyes, she gazed upon the face before her. By the light of the blazing sun under a clear blue sky, by the intimate light of scented candles, this was the face of a goddess.
By the cold morning light, it was Evil Incarnate.
"Y'know, baby, I love you, but only my feeble condition prevents me from sending you on a one-way trip to Dirt Nap City," Willow groaned.
Tara took the threat of bodily harm with all the stark terror of being attacked by puppies. "And good morning to you, too, sweetie. C'mon, get up."
"Noooo."
"Let's get some breakfast downstairs, and, and we could go for a walk on the beach."
Willow sat up. Incapable as she was of being truly angry at her newly-reunited love, Take-Charge Tara and her Mighty Itinerary were a bit much to take after such a late night. "Does the concept of 'vacation' completely elude you?"
Tara smiled. "Y'know, I-I almost forgotten what a morning person you're not."
The reminder of their months of separation made Willow change tracks. "Yeah. I've missed you, too." Tara's expression grew solemn briefly; she then broke the moment by leaning forward and kissing Willow. She started to bound out of bed when she stopped, as if hitting a wall like Wile E. Coyote, then sank back down with a surprised expression on her face.
Willow started to get up herself, concerned. "Tara? Baby, what's wr-- Ooohh, my goodness," she exhaled, as dozens of muscles, large and small, protested being used after a night of "abuse."
"Uh huh," Tara agreed, feeling the effects of her own "love hangover." "Now I know how the Tin Woodsman felt."
Willow clamped her lips together, then cried "Oil can! Oil can!"
Laughing, moving like septuagenarians, the two women helped each other out of bed.
********************
"Naaaaahhh!" Gunn cried as hot water hit him below the belt. He was, unsurprisingly, very tender down there. Dutifully, Fred moved herself between the shower spray and him, letting it hit her backside. "Ah, thanks, babe. That
smarts!"
"Ah'll bet!" she said, gingerly soaping his chest. His hands gently lathered shampoo into her long dark hair. "We have ta make sure that part still works…we might want to use it again someday!"
Gunn chuckled at that, then laughed when a memory flashed into his head. "Oh, God, I forgot about that!"
"Forgot about what?" she asked, leaning back and rinsing her hair.
"Kinda embarrassing story…okay, Sherman set the Way-Back Machine." Fred playing punched some imaginary buttons on the shower/bath tile, so he went ahead. "Y'know how guys, when they get to that certain age, called 'puberty' by some people, and the kid is real hormonal and he's just discovered this great thing he can, kinda do to himself, y'know, with his hand?" He made the universal back-and-forth motion with this closed fist.
"Yeah, I've read about that," Fred said in a bright tone, as if discussing an interesting and controversial treatise on quantum physics.
"Okay, so—now, ya promise you won't laugh…no, look who I'm talking to, never mind," he said, watching Fred giggle and deciding he'd tell the story anyway. "Well, a young guy wants to, y'know, experiment a little, try a few things out, to, like, facilitate the process…"
After hearing him trail off, she couldn't hold her curiosity anymore. "Charles, what did you do?" she asked, only partially succeeding at keeping a scolding tone out of her voice.
"I used shaving cream." When she laughed, he rolled his eyes and plunged on. "Well, it was available, and cheap, and it felt nice at first, and I figured if anybody, y'know, caught me, I could just say I was shaving."
"Down
there?" Fred cried, incredulous, laughing even harder now.
"Hey, gimme a break, I was a kid. How was I supposed to know how tender…that skin down there is?"
Fred stopped laughing. "Omigod…did it burn you?"
"That ain't the half of it."
Might as well jump off with both feet/ "That shaving cream I used? It was Menthol."
After the first half minute of her uncontrollable laughter, Gunn joined in.
************
"Dang it! Where's my wallet?" Willow snarled, throwing clothes all over hell's half-acre. Tara stood by the door, dressed and ready to go down for breakfast. She was still hoping to catch the All-You-Can-Eat Breakfast Buffet.
After they had stiffly gotten out of bed, and helped each other with a few stretching exercises that the redhead swore were invented during the Spanish Inquisition ("Okay, I'll talk, I'll talk!" she cried at one point when Tara helped her with a leg-stretch, "I shot the Lindbergh baby, I kidnapped JFK…no, wait…") they got dressed.
"Wow…clothes," Willow had murmured. She wore jeans and a white blouse, while Tara went with cargoes and a blue pullover longsleeve, which as usual extended well over her wrists.
"Don’t get used to 'em," Tara replied with her customary half-smile and a leer.
Now Willow was being a maid's nightmare trying to find her wallet. Articles of clothing flew with abandon, as Willow was certain that her clothes (and Tara's) had formed a conspiracy to hide her billfold.
A brassier flew through the air and landed on Tara's head. Picking it off, she said, "I think that's my cue to wait out in the hall." Opening the door, she strode out.
Stretching the last of the kinks out of her back, Tara turned when she heard a door open. It was actually the room next to theirs. Out walked a small, slim brunette woman in a peach-colored sundress and sandals. Tara gave her a quick once-over automatically, not out of any real desire to "branch out," but her days of being a virtual nun were
so over…
So that's who was making all that noise…I was right, she is cute.Fred was impatient to get to the breakfast buffet. Gunn was still lacing up his boots, not being a man for slip-on loafers. Fred turned and saw the blonde girl standing in the hall, her looks toward the open door of her room indicating that she, like Fred, was waiting on somebody.
Oh, my. This is one of the lesbians we heard last night. She's pretty. I guess she's not the 'butch' one…"Hello," Tara said, giving a little wave.
"Hi'y'all," Fred responded back, smiling shyly.
Gunn came out of the room then, closing the door behind him. He saw the woman that Fred was talking to and prepared to make polite, but short, conversation. He took half a second to check her out, curious as to who had been making with the mating calls to all hours of the night.
Well well well. Have Mer-cay!"G'mornin'" Gunn said, giving his best I-was-
not-undressing-you-with-my-eyes smile.
"Morning," Tara repeated back. She took a quick look at the African-American man and the Texas woman, trying not to think about what they obviously must have been doing in the next room last night.
I have to admit, though, they make a cute couple!Willow bustled out of the room. "Found it! Okay, we're off—Oh! Hi there!" she said, seeing that Tara was talking to someone.
In a strangely-frozen, crystalline second, three people recognized one another simultaneously. In the next second, enough blood drained out of three faces to give Angelus himself a tummy ache.
"Willow?" Gunn asked, incredulous, recognizing her from when she came to tell Angel some bad news.
"Willow?" Fred asked, confused.
"Willow?" Tara asked Willow, confused and a bit suspicious.
"Gunn!" Willow cried, finally placing a name to the face.
"Gun?" Tara started, thinking someone around there was packing concealed weapons.
"Willow!" Fred finally realized.
"Fred?" Willow asked.
"Fred?" Tara cried, pointing at Gunn.
"Gunn," Willow said, shaking her head and pointing to him.
"Fred?" Tara asked again, pointing to Fred this time.
"Fred," said Fred, pointing to herself.
"Gunn?" Willow asked Fred, pointing to Gunn, asking if the two of them were an item.
"Gunn," Fred said simply, hooking her arm through Gunn's and beaming up at him. He smiled back, then looked over at Tara. Fred, only vaguely familiar with Willow, looked over to the blonde. After a second, Willow, too, gazed at her girlfriend, if only to see what she was going to say in this potentially embarrassing situation.
Tara hunched her shoulders and, in a very small voice, said, "Um…pass?"
______________________
"I love you all. I love you more than life itself. You're all f***ing mad." -- Ozzy as "The Dad," THE OSBOURNES.
by Karzia » Tue May 14, 2002 7:59 am 
so of course I will now have "Bike built for two" running along side "Midnight train to ...." going through my head all day
