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Melt With You
By Jen'fr

It was fucking hot.

No, Faith corrected herself, it's really too hot to fuck. Hot as hell, then. And immediately she couldn't help wondering if that were true. Was it really as hot as hell right now - is that why they called Los Angeles, "Hell-Ay"? She'd have to ask Angel when he finally roused himself.

Not that she really would, of course. She was just in a mood with him for disconnecting the AC at the Hyperion during the California energy crisis. When she'd arrived this morning and the hotel was already stifling, she'd asked very politely if he might turn on the air, as a special favor to her, just for the weekend. But her request had fallen on deaf ears, and he'd retired to his room as soon as he'd welcomed her. Bastard. He probably enjoyed the heat, if he even noticed it. Made him feel right at home in Hell...

Ah yes, back to that. Maybe she would, then. Maybe she would ask him about Hell. Sure, it would piss him off and that was probably a bad move because, other than Fred, he was the only one on her side here. But then, from the muttered sounds the others had been making and the looks they'd been casting furtively (no one could ever cast a look so secretive and sneaky that Faith wouldn't catch it; she had a third eye about furtive looks), she thought that just maybe they would be on her side if she actually said it. They could all bond over it.

And that thought right there, bonding with Cordelia Chase and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and New Guy, Peter Gunn or whatever, was enough to make her hold her tongue on the subject of Angel and Hell forever.

The sweat almost tickled as it ran along her spine, pooling in the small of her back just at her waistband. She rolled over and sat up, running her fingers through her hair, the underside damp with perspiration where it had been resting against her neck. Taming her unruly mane as she gathered it up, she twisted her hair into a loose knot and held it on top of her head.

A second rivulet of sweat followed the path of the first, and Faith cast a baleful eye toward the door. If she opened it, she knew, the cross-breeze would cool the room - and her - considerably. But if she opened it, that would mean any of them would be able to look in on her. If she saw Angel, she'd have to curse him out over the AC even if she didn't mention hell; as for the rest of them, she was likely to curse them out on sight, just on principle.

And then things would get ugly. And then Fred would get upset. And that was the last thing Faith wanted; she only had a couple of days before she had to go back.

She'd rather wilt and melt. Fred would find her in a puddle when she finally returned. With a sigh, Faith let her hands slide from the top of her head, the damp, dark, silky strands tumbling down. When yet another stream of sweat ran down her back, Faith's hands went to the snap of her stretch pants, undoing the fly as she stood up to peel them off and toss them aside. Slipping her thumbs under the strings, she readjusted her thong. Yes, being half-naked was much better. And perfect justification to Fred for why she'd kept the door shut.

Of course, the sweat was now being drawn to the prison-issued metal tracking device around her ankle. And there was, sadly, no way of getting that off. Not that she intended to run away; it was just that sticky metal was awfully uncomfortable.

Flopping down on the bed, Faith glanced at her watch. Fred should be back soon. At first Faith had felt a little guilty for not going with, but she'd only just arrived and sort of wanted to kick back. Now, she saw that she was being punished for not going by slow-roasting here, while Fred was undoubtedly enjoying air-conditioning. Grocery stores always had the best AC. It was probably cold enough to harden Fred's nipples.

With a smile Faith flipped the pillow over to the cooler side and bunched it up to rest her head, sprawled on her stomach, legs apart. The heat felt so heavy on her eyelids that she couldn't keep them open...

*

It was the mild breeze across her skin, pulled through the window when the door opened, that roused her, alerting her to another presence. Only one person would dare enter. "Get anything good to eat?" she asked, eyes still closed.

"Oh!" the startled girl exclaimed. "I thought you were asleep."

"Just waiting for you," Faith said as she rolled onto her back and grinned. Observing the slick white wrapping around the oblong items Fred was holding, she asked, "Popsicles?"

"Creamsicles," Fred modified, holding them up as one, the individual wrappers joined at the top and bottom. "I like them better with the creamy center."

"Course you do," Faith grinned.

Fred put on her best innocent smile in response, and offered, "Want one?" When Faith declined with a polite shake of her head, Fred shrugged and gently separated them as she sat on the bed by the sprawled girl. "Remember TwinPops?" Fred asked, unwrapping a creamsicle. "The real ones, that came attached to each other and you had to press them against the sharp edge of the counter to break them apart?"

Faith nodded as Fred paused to lick her treat. She noticed Faith's eyes on her as she licked each side, gradually turning the creamsicle a darker shade of orange. "Don't want my lips to get stuck," she explained before engulfing it halfway down to the stick. She drew it out with a quiet slurp and continued her reminiscences. "It's all different now. Even the flavors. Now they have everything: raspberry, coconut, passionfruit, you name it. But I still like the classics. Grape, cherry and orange. Bet you liked cherry." She grinned at Faith and, without waiting for an answer, added, "Who didn't?"

She sucked on the creamsicle again, still holding the unwrapped one in the hand that rested in her lap. She tilted her head when she took it out of her mouth this time, holding it up as if studying it. "There's just something about orange, though. Something that draws people sensitive to that sort of thing. If you give an autistic kid a box of crayons, he'll color everything in orange."

Almost absently, mesmerized by the bright creamsicle, she dropped the wrapped one and let her fingers rest against Faith's thigh. They were cold from holding the ice cream, cold like a vampire's. Fred began to trace abstractions on Faith's warm skin, "coloring" with an imaginary crayon as she went on, "You can try to get him to switch colors with the power of suggestion, asking him which is the blue crayon. He'll pick up the blue one, show it to you, and keep right on coloring with orange." No vampire had ever touched Faith the way Fred was, not even Angel. Fred's fingers were cold but, oh god, so alive. Faith shivered.

Fred sucked on the creamsicle, pulling the orange shell off and chewing it. She took a lick of the exposed vanilla ice cream, but clearly wasn't done with her meditation on orange. "You take another autistic kid shopping and let her pick out her own clothing, and she'll be dressed head-to-toe in orange, whether it's a sundress or vinyl hotpants." Her fingers danced over the little front panel of Faith's thong, and she looked at Faith with a smile. "Or satin underwear." She caressed the thong with a sweet smile as she concluded, "Orange. It has a particular vibration."

"You have a particular vibration," Faith said a little breathlessly. Fred acknowledged it with another, wider smile as her fingers pushed aside the flimsy material. Faith slid down the bed as she bucked against Fred's hand, and Fred obliged her, the coolness of her touch relieving some of Faith's aching heat while each caress made her quiver more. Faith began to whimper and arch off the bed as Fred's fingertips glided along her folds to teasingly brush and then directly rub her engorged clit. Mewling turned to moans as Fred slipped a finger inside and began pumping Faith's cunt, adding a second finger when she begged for it. Smiling and flushed herself from the pleasure she was bringing her lover, as well as from the heat, Fred kept licking and sucking her creamsicle.

When she finished it, licking up the last drop of melty ice cream, Fred dropped the stick and picked up the other one. She had to withdraw her fingers in order to unwrap it, and Faith whimpered in protest. But Fred only smiled and, wrapper tossed aside, went through her ritual of licking each side of the creamsicle. Eyes fixed on the other girl's mouth, on her slick, clever little tongue, Faith murmured, "Wish I were a fucking creamsicle."

Fred paused between licks to smile, and then resumed her work while Faith watched. When she finished the last side, Fred touched the slickened creamsicle to Faith's lips, and Faith opened her mouth for it. But instead, Fred moved the creamsicle along her skin, under her chin and down her throat, making Faith gasp and jump. She pushed Faith's tank top up as far as it would go, exposing her soft, firm breasts and toned abdomen. As Fred traced a wet, orange-tinged path down Faith's body, pausing to brush each nipple and really making her squirm when she dipped playfully into her bellybutton, Faith thought, Surely not. But even as the words entered her head, she felt an amazingly-cool-in-every-way sensation as Fred pushed the creamsicle inside her. "Fuck me!" she breathed, exclamation, observation and command rolled into one.

But when Fred tried to oblige, pulling it out for the next thrust, she lost the ice cream to Faith's clenching muscles and with a surprised "oh!," found herself holding an empty stick.

Faith was trembling, muscles still contracting around the rapidly-thawing and now misshapen creamsicle buried in her cunt. The cold felt so weird, but so good, and she was getting so close... not close enough, though, and she whimpered in frustration. She was reaching for herself when she felt Fred's hand spreading her legs apart. And then Fred's tongue was going for the creamsicle remains, lapping up the essences of orange and vanilla and Faith. Fred purred and hummed, lower and softer than Faith's ravished cries, enjoying the counterpoint of their sounds as much as the heavenly flavors on her tongue and the thrumming nerves and flesh against her mouth. Her tongue flicked and rolled and stroked in and out, growing a little numb with the cold ice cream dissolving with her attentions and Faith's heat. And as the last of the creamsicle melted in her mouth, Faith did too...

Raising her head, Fred licked the dried, sticky orange traces back over Faith's body up to her mouth, lips brushing together and parting, Fred's tongue still cold from the ice cream, making Faith shiver and melt a little more.

"It's black, you know," Faith said when the kiss broke. She rolled onto her side, adjusting her body to Fred's as the girl settled down with an arm around her. "My thong."

Fred smiled again and propped up on one elbow. "Yeah, well, when it comes to you," she said leaning in for another kiss, "I'm color-blind." Her giggle was muffled and swallowed between them as their lips met.

When they parted this time, they lay quietly for a moment, their sweat and traces of orange gluing them to each other. It was so still, there wasn't even the whisper of a breeze outside.

Then, with a grin, Faith remarked, "It's fucking hot in here."

The End