|
B
u f f y / F a i t h
. F a
n f i c t i o n . b y .K
J .D
r a f t
TITLE:
Faded Eyeliner
AUTHOR:
KJ (Katherine Jay) Draft
PAIRING:
Buffy / Faith
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY:
Ever wonder why Faith got so upset when she found out Angel was alive?
TIMELINE: Season 3, during the episode "Revelations."
Gwendolyn Post has made an appearance, and no one except Buffy knows
that Angel is back. They haven't kissed yet, either, which is making
Buffy rather... frustrated. Faith picks up this frustration and runs
a marathon with it.
WARNING: In case you haven't deduced it, this fic contains fem slash.
DISTRIBUTION: Want? Take! Have! (Just give me credit, yo)
THANKS: To Nauti of course for my site and for offering detailed feedback.
I'll eat your hair anytime ;) (Did that come out wrong?)
FIC BITCH, er, I mean BETA: True Crystal - thank you for the reassurance
and thorough, helpful suggestions. You rock!
DISCLAIMER: Nobody and nothing belongs to me. Sniffle. But I can still
make them prance! Prance, Dammit! Also, I'm including snippets at the
very beginning and end, from the episode "Revelations" (written
by Douglas Petrie) to set the scene and get you in the mood. I'm keeping
the first part in script format for simplicity. Neener, neener.
FEEDBACK:
is quietly yearned for at: [email protected]
AWARDS
WON: "Best Slash" from the Bite Me Awards
and "Best PWP" from the Fancy Me Yours
Awards.
INT.
BRONZE - NIGHT
CORDELIA
So? Are you with somebody or not?
All eyes turn to Buffy. Buffy smiles to herself.
BUFFY
Well, I wouldn't use the word "dating,"
but I am… going out with somebody.
Tonight.
WILLOW
(excited)
Really? Who?
FAITH strides up to the table.
FAITH
Yo, what's up.
(to Buffy)
Time to motorvate.
Buffy puts her arm around Faith.
BUFFY
Really, we're just good friends.
***
Buffy
unlocks the front door and steps inside the dark foyer.
Faith remains on the porch, throws her head back and howls out a triumphant,
"Woooooo!" complete with fist pump. Buffy grabs her by the
arm and hauls her inside.
"I realize sleeping at night may be conceptually foreign to you
and me, but in certain parts of *everywhere*, it's considered the norm,
so ya wanna keep it down?"
Lighten up! Faith slings an arm around Buffy's neck. "How
can you be so calm? That was our best slay in weeks!"
"Night like any other," Buffy insists, breaking free and high
tailing it to the kitchen, flicking on a path of lights as she goes.
This instantly brings warmth into the empty house.
"You're honestly going to pretend you're not jazzed?"
You're honestly going to pretend we don't have this conversation
every time we hang out? Buffy retrieves a half-eaten carton of ice
cream from the freezer. Shoves it at Faith with an eyebrow raise. "Happy
now?"
Faith glances down. "Cookies 'n' Cream. I take it back. You're
bad to the bone, B."
Faith turns on the radio and pumps the volume, scanning stations until
she finds a dance beat. Starts to groove, shimmying closer and closer
to Buffy. In response, Buffy cranks the music back down and opens the
utensil drawer. Faith rolls her eyes.
Without looking, Buffy flings a spoon over her shoulder to Faith, then
helps herself to one. They sit at the table, dessert positioned in between.
Faith tears the lid off and dives in.
"Is there any possible way, in an 'I owe you my first born' kind
of way, that I could hang here tonight?" Faith pleads. "I
just know that dumb-as-a-Post woman is waiting for me back at the motel."
Buffy shrugs. "Sure, I'll make up the couch." She plunges
her spoon into the ice cream.
"Joyce won't mind?"
"Nah. 'Joyce', or 'Mom', as I sometimes call her when I'm feeling
zany, is working late tonight."
"Thanks." She craters out a large segment of ice cream. "You
know, the way you eat ice cream is the same way you have sex,"
Faith announces, swirling her tongue voraciously around the spoon. She
sucks it like a tootsie pop, refusing to yield a single drip.
Buffy rolls her eyes. "Cold and calorific?"
"Check out those dainty licks! You're really strung up tight, huh?"
Faith teases before indulging in another deliberately greedy slurp.
"Can we play Analyze Buffy another time, like, I don't know, never?"
Faith leans forward, eyes flashing mischievously. "C'mon, if it's
not slaying, what does it take for you to unleash it?"
"Well, I always find interrogations from my friends to be really
sexy," Buffy snips, digging her spoon into their shared tub for
another conservative sample.
When she slides the spoon from her mouth, a dollop of cream clings tenaciously
to her bottom lip.
Faith glances at it, distracted. Flashes on an image of her thumb slowly
tracing Buffy's lip and absorbing the ooze. No, no, she'd probably
freak...
Oblivious, Buffy wipes her mouth with the back of her hand then
goes to the sink to wash her spoon.
Curling with tension, Faith rotates her chair so she's straddling it.
"There's a crazy rumor going around, says girls can have orgasms,
too, not just guys. Did you ever hear such a thing? I bet it's a hoax."
Buffy clanks her spoon down and whips around. "I've had orgasms.
Oh, I've *had* orgasms." Beat. Embarrassed: "All right?"
Faith's eyes spark with palpable delight. Now we're getting somewhere.
"No need to get defensive --"
"Just 'cause I don't go around blabbing about it in alarming detail
doesn't mean I don't... I mean, I *have* experience."
"Fine, you've been around the block, but that was, what, a year
ago? With Angel?"
Buffy's eyebrows raise; they're into Don't Ask, Don't Tell Territory,
though with Buffy it's more like Don't Ask, No, Really, Don’t
Ask.
Faith waits for Buffy's poise to re-grow cha-cha-cha-Chia,
then forges breezily ahead with, "Must've been damn good if it
snatched his soul."
Buffy retreats, jarred. "I don't... want to talk about that --
"
"Been letting your fingers do the walking ever since?" Faith
shakes her head and emits a low whistle. "Such a waste."
"I'm going to take a shower, you can have one after," Buffy
responds pointedly, which is loosely translated to mean Give it up,
I won't take the bait.
Faith rises. Licks her spoon a final time. "All I'm saying is,
there's a lot more to sex than: Insert Tab *A* into..." (sly pause),
"Slot B."
"I know that!" Buffy huffs, and yearns to say something more,
something clever or scandalous to prove her non-virgin status... but
a moment passes and nothing's forthcoming. She sighs with exasperation,
pivots and clomps upstairs.
Faith executes a pleased little twirl, then tucks the lid back onto
the carton of ice cream. Returns it to the freezer. Plucks Buffy's unwashed
spoon from the sink and brings it to her mouth for a furtive taste.
She's not entirely certain why it's so satisfying to tease reactions
out of Princess Priss, she only knows she can't seem to stop.
In the shower, Buffy stretches her sore muscles out, rotates her neck
and takes a moment to massage her shoulders. A tender blush dots her
cheeks, and it has nothing to do with the scorching water.
It's nice, being flirted with, she realizes. Besides, it's
meaningless. Faith flirts with everybody.
Said Flirt lingers in the living room for ten minutes, watching
TV and clicking absentmindedly through the channels. Bor-ring.
With a side of boring. When she hears the shower turn off, she
paces for another five minutes before strolling up the stairs. Knocks
a bit hesitantly on the bathroom door.
Buffy opens it right away, allowing all the steam to flood out and saturate
Faith's skin.
The bathroom's drenched in humidity, the mirror wiped clear at Buffy
Height. Faith slips her a quick once over: Buffy wears drawstring pajama
pants and a thin, loose tank top. Her pale face is freshly cleansed
and scrubbed, her
hair sloppily pulled back into a scrunchie. Her entire body is lotioned,
loofah-ed and lathered, smooth, milky and fragrant...
Faith is both sickened and completely titillated. She's so... pure.
God, everything I can't be. Good enough to *eat*. "I'm
ready for bed," Faith blurts out.
Buffy doesn't catch the double entendre. "You're not gonna wash
your face? Wash your eyeliner off and stuff?"
She's so earnestly perplexed by this possibility that Faith nearly guffaws.
Wash my eyeliner off?! Oh, well, I guess I could. The
rusted out sink in Faith's motel room doesn't exactly inspire confidence.
And she has to shut her eyes tightly when she showers in order to sustain
the illusion of cleanliness, pretend her skin's not in continuous danger
of coming into contact with nasty ass mildew.
Plus, next day eyeliner looks cool, like it's faded on purpose, fashionably
smeary, and if she leaves it on, she doesn't have to bother reapplying
it. Saves time.
The idea that Buffy could never conceive of falling asleep without first
removing her make up amuses Faith to no end.
Buffy recites the Bathroom Tour. "There's cotton balls under the
sink, clean towels in the drawer, and over here's the face wash, toner,
moisturizer -- "
Ignoring this, Faith slowly glides her arm up the doorframe.
Blocking the exit.
"C'mon, B, for real. The ice cream didn't cool you off. You're
still itching from it."
"What, the fight?"
" 'Course the fight."
"Really not -- "
"Well, I am." She grabs Buffy by the back of the head and
kisses her. Stunned, Buffy staggers 'til her body smacks into the opposite
door frame.
"Mmph --" Buffy parts her lips to form a feeble protest.
Faith instantly takes advantage of this and slides her tongue in.
Buffy's mouth tastes like mint toothpaste.
Faith's mouth still tastes like cookies 'n' cream, so together, Faith
thinks, they're like one of those creamy Blizzards from DQ, like she
used to have in Boston on oppressively hot, sticky summer days.
Before she can censor the thought, Buffy wonders what Faith's amazing
tongue would feel like on the rest of her body, especially her nipples,
which are suddenly very jealous and very tight.
Minds spinning, they kiss deeply and silently in the bathroom doorway,
eating each other's air, no moans, no gasps... no sound at all except
the synchronized hammering of their fierce, young hearts.
We're just kissing, Buffy thinks, trying to calm down, Not
even touching, just the lips, just a bit of Girl Kissage, No
Big, it's fine, it's… better than fine.
In fact, she can't get over how pliably soft Faith's lips and tongue
are, the whole external Tough Girl Act dissolving helplessly away, melts
in my mouth, not in my hand, and as Buffy is appreciating this fact,
Faith's warm hand slips underneath her tank top to close gently around
a supple, naked breast.
Buffy can't breathe. Okay, there's touching now, there's the touching
of me, she's touching me, she's touching me...
Their hearts begin to pound triple time, collectively, perfectly
in sync, as it should be for the only two girls who can save the world
from itself.
Buffy clutches Faith's wrist, fingers climbing up her arm to grip higher
and find leverage; mashes their mouths together, harder, demanding;
strokes and darts her tongue across Faith's, then sucks on it firmly.
Faith's impressed, and instantly jelly kneed. Girl's got a few tricks.
Let's see how she likes this...
Faith circles Buffy's taut nipple with her fingers a few times,
then pulls lightly. The need for air overwhelms her and Buffy wrenches
free, pulling back to gasp hungrily.
Faith panics until Buffy tips upward and resumes the kissing.
Emboldened, Faith traces a path down Buffy's stomach to the drawstring.
Pulls quickly to untie it. Caresses the hem, about to dive under the
material.
Buffy trembles and breaks contact again. "Wait -- Stop -- "
Faith stills her hand. Why, you on the rag? Thought we had
the same cycle...
Buffy struggles to articulate. "I'm not -- I'm not like that
-- "
Faith cups Buffy's cheek with her free hand. Tries to explain. "Neither
am I. It's just for you. It's… you. Me and you." We're
different. We're special. There's no one like us.
Buffy opens her eyes, gazes deeply into Faith's wide, stunningly
- (beautiful) - vulnerable ones. Decides what she sees there
is trustworthy.
"Okay," Buffy whispers.
Faith smiles and traces her fingertips under the faded cotton waistband,
along Buffy's thigh, and onto the shockingly smooth, sleek skin surrounding
her pussy. Oh, you perfect little *bitch*, of course you shaved.
Even when you're not dating anyone, have no reason to expect visitors,
you still keep it trim. Probably waxed. Goddamn.
Faith dips her thumb inside and easily wets it, yeah, B,
then shares the treat with the class, spreading the evidence of Buffy's
arousal outside and around, glossy and determined, and Buffy resumes
her position of closed eyes and bit lip, rocking to meet her, a slow
rhythm that Faith can easily match and surpass. She circles her thumb
lightly around but never *on*, and this serves as the pick up, the flowers,
the date the goodnight kiss and the foreplay.
Presses her slippery thumb directly to Buffy's clit, at *last*,
and it's like pushing the button for lift off.
A pained moan escapes Buffy's lips, followed by quiet panting and sloppy
hip jerks. Faith knows she's close. Worries Buffy will make her stop
again before she hits it, which *will* drive Faith to some type of violence,
she's sure of this, and if Buffy would just let go for once, she could
see that Faith will give her whatever she needs, right now, maybe
forever, maybe, and then Buffy throws her head back, banging it
against the frame of the doorway, but she doesn't notice because she's
coming, a minor wave, but coming, and it's been so long, and
her hips go crazy, and her lips part ever so, just enough to cry out
delicately, "Angel, Angel…"
Faith frowns, but remains silent and works her finger and thumb to the
very last swivel, penetrating her and drawing all the thick knots out
into long, gossamer strings, flimsy as spider webs -- hot come slicking
her fingers. Waits for Buffy to calm down and open her eyes, because
if she says anything now, it will be pointless, intangible, float through
her like a ghost.
When Buffy crashes back to Sunnydale, (a disappointing place to find
oneself under normal circumstances, but particularly after orgasm),
Faith mutters, "I swear to God, B, if you say his name again, I'm
gonna beat you."
Buffy appears to be genuinely perplexed, eyes coated with guilt. She
covers her face, flushed. "I didn't mean to, I guess I couldn't
help it."
"I'm the one doing this," Faith insists heatedly. Not your
dead undead boyfriend. "What's up with that?"
"I know. Sorry." She bites her lip once more in embarrassment,
and Faith can't stay mad because Buffy also bites her lip when she's
about to come, which is new and exciting information, (something
none of Buffy's *other* friends know), and such a blisteringly hot
image it makes her forget why they're arguing, and I gave that to
her, that was me, I did that to her, I made Buffy make those faces,
I made Buffy get off, oh, *God*, whatever happens in life after
this, I have that, *we* have that, and Faith wants to do it again,
but it's well past time that Faith got a little action herself.
Buffy doesn't exactly seem prepared to provide it, however. At least,
not yet.
"I'm gonna hop into bed, take your time, with whatever,"
Buffy remarks with a tiny yawn, turning on her heel before Faith can
observe her expression.
You think we're finished? Faith inwardly snorts. Not hardly.
It's then that Faith realizes Buffy didn't mention anything about the
couch. "I'm gonna hop into bed..." Holy shit, holy shit
-- that was an invitation. Holy shit!!
Heart pounding again, she slams the bathroom door shut and leans
against it. Lifts her soaking fingers to her nose and inhales. Entertains
the thought of tasting, then reconsiders and turns on the faucet. Plenty
of time later. I'll shower, use every fucking pampery lotion,
make myself one hundred percent girly and smooth. That's what she wants,
that's what she'll get.
Tucked away in bed, Buffy pulls the covers to her chin, brain fizzing
out, electrified and awash in the memories of what she just participated
in. Knows with a type of warmth and certainty that this couldn't have
happened with any girl but Faith. She's the only one who can understand
me, if I want to do this, it has to be with her, we're the only ones...
Thinks briefly of Kendra. Pushing the sadness and severe inappropriateness
to the side, Buffy tries to imagine kissing her, making out. Hears Kendra's
thick accent urging her on. Wrinkles her nose. Uh, not so
much. Imagines kissing Faith again... the steamy, thick bathroom
air wrapping around their pulsating bodies... the feel, the *taste*...
Yeah, that's more like it.
Her fingers wander curiously inside her PJs and between her legs. How
did she get me so wet, so fast? Just from kissing? Well, that and the
nipple tweak thing... But, I *was* thinking about Angel in the shower...
that started it, then Faith with the... and it became a combination
of factors, probably.
Angel. Should I be having guilt about him? It's not like we're back
together. All we do is Not Kiss. He probably doesn't ever want to go
down that path again. I probably don't either. Right? I mean, we'd be
insane to want that. Yeah.
'Course, if we're both insane, then we'd make a good match, it'd be
romantic actually, two insane people who manage to find each other --
but, No.
Maybe I should leave Melancholy and the Infinite Badness behind for
one night. Let it go just for tonight? Have a little fun?
As if in agreement, the shower abruptly cuts off.
Buffy's breath catches in her throat. I spoke too soon, I spoke too
soon...
The water blasts on again.
Buffy swallows anxiously. What is taking her so long?
What if she doesn't come in here? What if I really pissed her off when
I said his name? What if something else I did, that I wasn't aware of,
repulsed her utterly, or I looked stupid when I... and she doesn't want
to do anything else?
What if she *tells* everyone tomorrow?! Oh, God...
Having applied the complete Buffy Summers Nighttime Regiment, Faith
feels almost *too* clean. Quickly peruses her naked, dripping body for
anything squick worthy. Smiles devilishly to herself. No one could
say no to this.
Clad only in a fluffy towel, she hesitantly darts one toe into the
hallway. On the floor, folded neatly, is another set of PJs: tank top
and matching drawstring pants. Faith shrugs and picks them up. They
smell like laundry detergent. Changing quickly, Faith casually deposits
her towel on the floor.
She strides pseudo-confidently toward Buffy's bedroom, molding her expression
to that of a calm and collected person. Keep it together...
Grips the doorknob, takes a deep breath and turns it.
Buffy's not in bed.
Where is she?
Scans the dark room, confused and worried --
Next thing she knows, she's on her back, on Buffy's mattress, wrists
pinned.
Despite the death grip, Buffy smiles shyly. Affects an intentionally
poor British accent: "Horribly lax reflexes. Who has been training
you?"
Faith laughs. "What are you doing?"
Buffy gets to the point. "This is only for tonight, right? Like...
a Slayer Thing?"
"Slayer Thing?"
"I mean, you're -- just... horny, right? You don't, you know, 'like'
me... or whatever...?" she trails off uncertainly.
" 'Or whatever'," Faith mimics in exaggerated Valley Girl
Speak, responding right away so Buffy won't wig. "Nah, it's cool.
Relax, be cool. Just tonight."
Satisfied with this answer, and keeping Faith's wrists pinned, Buffy
carefully lowers herself forward, so the tips of their breasts touch
through their similar tank tops. She fools around lightly at first,
tentatively, getting used to the concept of kissing Faith again, then
swipes her tongue along the other slayer's full lips, requesting entrance.
Faith arches up to assist. After several minutes of heavy tonguing,
they pull apart, mouths numb and glistening with desire.
"You realize Xander would sell his family to see this," Faith
chuckles.
"Xander would sell his family for bite size Snickers. But -- yeah."
"Cream all over himself -- "
"Gross!"
"Prob'ly more than once -- "
"Stop that!" I wonder if Angel would like watching us?
Does he like this kind of stuff? Girl on girl? *Me* on girl? Or would
he be jealous? The thought of Angel getting jealous makes her hotter.
She grinds urgently against Faith's upper thigh, causing a little wet
spot to appear on the fabric of her pajamas.
Okay, no more Shy Act, B, no more circling the issue. Faith flips
Buffy over only to immediately de-pants her.
Buffy squeaks in surprise and scoots up the bed. Despite the lust cramping
through her belly, she feels awfully exposed and naked, which makes
sense, because -- naked. Faith grabs her ankles, pushing her knees
between Buffy's to keep them spread.
"Lose the top," Faith commands and Buffy, relieved to be provided
with instruction, instantly complies. Yes, good, tell me what to
do, tell me what to do!
Faith stares at Buffy's nude form, awed. She's so freakin' hot. Bet
we trash this bed.
Faith lowers her face to Buffy's chest and does some damage. Digs
her fingers into nubile flesh while she nibbles and licks, alternating
between kind and harsh touches. Buffy swoons, eyes rolling back as she
settles contently on top of the pillows.
Faith tickles her still damp, luxurious dark hair down Buffy's body,
side to side, back and forth, arousing both girls further.
She reaches the end of her journey and licks her lips sensually before
descending. A single firm, manipulating stroke along her drenched, swollen
pussy makes Buffy melt through the bed.
"You're so... pretty," Buffy stammers repeatedly, totally
unaware, the words bubbling forth of their own volition. "Faith,
you're so pretty."
During their one and only night together, Angel had gone down on her,
but it was mostly to ensure she'd be ready for entry. Buffy was more
than prepped, he quickly discovered, and neither could bear to wait
any longer for the main attraction, so...
Recalling this, Buffy smiles lazily, luxuriously. This is perfect.
With Faith at the wheel, she can simply lie back and appreciate the
pleasures of oral sex ('cause what else are we gonna do?) Ohhh, man...
Having someone use their tongue on you down there? Pretty much the Best.
Idea. Ever. People should just do this all day long, every day, all...
day... every... Mmm...
Buffy's thrashing grows urgent, her cries of ecstasy intensifying.
Faith glances proudly up at Buffy, who is now biting her lip and closing
her eyes tightly, which can only mean one thing.
C'mon, Buff, Faith silently cheers her, that's it, almost there
--
Downstairs, the front door slams shut.
Buffy's eyes jolt open in a panic - shit, it's Mom it's Mom -
Faith hears it too, knows Buffy's about to climax and rip forth one
hell of a scream.
I need to smother her face, Faith realizes, and darts her unoccupied
hand up to Buffy's mouth, can't quite cover it effectively from her
position, but refuses to stop stimulating her -- (what if this is
my only chance to do this?) -- flails around, trying to grab something,
a pillow, *anything*, anything to muffle her with, all the while licking
and sucking and teasing, faster, faster, just... right...
"Faith?" Buffy gulps out softly, frantically, "Faith?
I think I'm -- I think I'm -- I think -- I'm -- gonna -- "
As Buffy bucks helplessly and opens her mouth to yell, Faith manages
to grab something soft and shove it in her face. Buffy clutches it tightly
and mutes her scream of release, then bites down, shuddering and twisting
with a second exquisite surge. Oh...my...god...! Uhhhn...
"Mr. Gordo?" she puzzles out a moment later, pulling the
plush doll from her face with extreme mortification. "Oh, God,
you corrupted Mr. Gordo."
"Who the *fuck* is Mr. Gordo?" Faith groans, exhausted, flopping
onto her back.
Buffy sheepishly holds out the stuffed pig. Faith takes it from her,
noting the teeth mark Buffy left in its fur.
"Buffy?" Joyce calls from the hallway. "You still awake?"
Buffy scrambles to locate the sheets, bunched on the floor beside the
bed, and yanks them over her and Faith, cocooning them. When did
we kick the sheets off?
"Fine, Mom!" Buffy strains back. "G'night!"
"What is this, a tent?" Faith teases.
"Shh!" Buffy hisses back.
Faith rolls on top of her, rubbing and humping almost violently, trying
to kiss her mouth. Buffy titters nervously and turns her face.
Don't want to taste yourself, huh?
Faith considers *making* Buffy taste herself, but then
the bedroom door cracks open and Joyce peeks in.
Buffy shoves Faith aside and pops her face out from beneath the covers.
"Hi, Mom, I'm just sleeping now, going to sleep -- "
Joyce gives her a curious look, but due to the darkness of the room
and her particular angle from the doorway can't figure out what might
be off.
"I'm off early tomorrow, want me to wake you?''
"No, no. Alarm." Pause. "Is. Fine."
"Well, all right. Good night, Buffy. Love you."
Buffy nods vigorously. "Love you, too."
Faith rolls her eyes and makes a jerking off motion.
Buffy holds her breath until her mother closes the door and heads back
down the hall.
Exhibiting no such fear, Faith flings the covers off in a grand, sweeping
gesture, then shimmies out of her pajamas.
Buffy stares at her. Okay, there's a naked girl in my bed. She's
naked. Yep. Very much so. And her breasts are bigger than mine. Hmph.
Faith holds Mr. Gordo up. "Mr. Gordo looks hungry." She
bounces Mr. Gordo down her body. Makes him face her crotch. "I
think Mr. Gordo wants to eat me out -- "
"Don't!" Buffy rescues her abused doll from Faith's clutches
and tosses him where he can't be harmed.
"Well *someone* better eat me out soon," Faith gripes.
"Like who?" Buffy questions, faux innocence.
"Good point. No offense, B, but I don't know if you're up to the
task," Faith lures her in.
Buffy pounces, whispering indignantly, "What? You don't think I
can give you one? I can give you one -- "
"So stop talking and give me one."
"I will!"
"So do it!"
Pause.
"I don't know how."
Faith's impatient now, and it shows. "Just think about what you'd
do to yourself if you could --"
"I really don't think that way -- "
" -- only, do it for me. Do it to me." Fuck yeah, do it
to me, Buffy, give it, Jesus, come on...!
Buffy's stuck on an endless wheel of questions, though. What
if I don't like how it tastes? What if I... get, like, hair in my mouth?
Faith fidgets in agitation. "C'mon," she mews plaintively,
"it's only fair, you've had two already -- "
She's right, it's her turn. Buffy slips up her body, skin against
skin, flesh against flesh, soft and hot and malleable every place they
connect. Begins kissing her neck.
Faith sighs contently. Much better. "You have good instincts,"
Faith reminds her, caressing her back encouragingly. "Just go with
your instincts."
Buffy licks a path down Faith's creamy neck to her breasts. Circles
each nipple a few times, swirling her tongue until they rise into peaks.
Continues down the centerline of her body, pausing to dip inside her
belly button. Faith giggles involuntarily, then pushes Buffy's face
lower.
Buffy smirks and goes deliberately too low, picking up one of Faith's
feet and stroking the arch. "Ya ticklish?"
"Buffy -- " Faith warns.
Buffy leans in toward Faith's silky smooth legs, then trails her fingers
and tongue up each side, alternating. Pauses briefly, as if awaiting
permission or instruction. Maybe both.
Do I have to tell her everything?! Faith wonders, then orders,
"Use your fingers."
Buffy sucks on one of her fingers, then guides it effortlessly inside.
She's entranced by how wet the other girl is, entranced by
her own part in causing it. Just swallowed me right up, didn't have
to push at all...
"Not enough," Faith complains. Buffy lightly smacks her.
Inserts two fingers, then three, and pumps them, watching them go in
and out, hot liquid coating her up to her knuckles. Faith appears to
be enjoying it though, and that gives Buffy a wicked jolt of pleasure.
She concentrates on spiraling and thumping her fingers, until Faith
starts to heave her butt off the bed, fucking herself against Buffy's
hand, craving more. Ohh, god, B, yeah... your cute little fingers
-- just like that... you're getting the hang of it...
"Now your mouth," Faith groans out.
Buffy drops between Faith's thighs, determined now, focused like a laser.
I'm gonna make Faith come. I'm gonna make her come good and hard,
so she won't be able to tease me about this kind of thing anymore, sex
things, because of the, you know, good and hard come I'm about to give
her...
Buffy's hot, wet tongue lashes back and forth, stroking so rapidly
Faith almost can't feel it, up and down, side to side --then abruptly
changes pace, slowing to an unbearably tantalizing, languid tongue bath.
This, Faith can *definitely* feel. Part of her wishes the moment would
last, but the tension and torment from the past hour have grown to such
a fevered pitch she can no longer keep it together.
"Suck it, B, *please*," Faith sobs, slightly embarrassed but
desperate for liberation from the sweet misery, unable to spout anything
more coherent. "Just suck, suck, now, please, now... !"
Buffy's an obedient little Slayer. Places the tip of her tongue on Faith's
clit, wraps her lips around and sucks forcefully. Faith whimpers and
claws at the bed, claws at Buffy's feathery soft hair, so Buffy sucks
harder, circling with just the barest tip of her tongue, again and again,
until Faith starts to see stars, starts to frantically conjure up life
snippets to propel her over the edge. Feels Buffy's mouth on her, feels
Buffy's soft sheets and Buffy's pillow... closes her eyes tight and
pictures Buffy's friends and Buffy's Watcher and Buffy's mom and Buffy's
*life*… all around her, surrounding her... mocking her,
filling her with jealousy, filling her with *longing*...
Faith emits a strangled howl, a torrent of hip gyrations... and comes,
Good And Hard.
Without giving her time to recover, Buffy catapults up and ravishes
her, mashing their mouths, thrusting her tongue inside and pushing all
the taste from her lips into Faith, grinning, mighty pleased with herself.
Lookie what I did...
Soon after, Faith pushes Buffy off and rolls onto her side, totally
spent. One hopeless thought storms through her brain:
I never, ever, ever want to go back to the motel.
Want to stay here forever... Get Joyce to make me breakfast every morning,
pancakes or scrambled eggs and potatoes... shower every night in that
sparkling clean, warm bathroom, use the fluffy towels... sleep in this
bed...
Buffy stretches and snuggles up behind her, hooking her chin over
Faith's shoulder. Gives her a peck on the cheek. "You going to
sleep?"
"Trying to," Faith murmurs sarcastically.
"Let's put our clothes back on," Buffy suggests, a tad anxiously,
and sets about finding them. Pulls a tank top over her head and faded
pajama pants up her legs.
Hands the other pair to Faith.
We switched outfits, Faith notices drowsily, climbing into the
soft cotton. This is the one she was wearing before.
***
At some point during sleep, Buffy cuddles close and seeks out Faith's
hand, lacing their fingers tightly.
Faith stirs; doesn't like it. Feels trapped and claustrophobic. Yet
when they wake, that's the position they're in. As sunshine glares through
the window, Faith examines their linked hands, briefly perplexed.
Guess I got used to it.
Sleeping Beauty's still out cold. "Rise and shine," Faith
gruffs. Nothing.
Faith digs her nail into Buffy's palm, taking perverse pleasure in the
other girl's startled yelp of pain. "What are you doing?"
Buffy accuses, noticing their proximity and scooting immediately away.
Faith is insulted. "Nothing! Don't you have school?"
Buffy blinks a few times and tries to rectify her disheveled hair as
understanding dawns. "Crap, why did you let me sleep so late?"
Buffy snaps, hastening out of bed.
Today's episode is brought to you by the letters P, M and S, Faith
surmises with annoyance.
Buffy tugs impatiently at the sheets. "We have to make the bed,"
she says, then notices Faith's dubious expression and adds, "Please?"
Faith casually swings her legs over the side.
Maintaining their distance, they silently raise and straighten the sheets
and comforter.
What Faith would like to say is: How 'bout we go out later and pick
up some guys? Show 'em what you learned last night, and then, when they're
so blue balled they can't even grunt, we'll kick 'em to the curb and
finish what we started.
"Are we doing slaying tonight?" Faith asks instead, then
cringes. "Doing slaying?" Fuck! "Or... Bronzing?
With the gang?"
Buffy misinterprets her vocal trippings. Skirts the side of the bed
to approach Faith. Not too close. Looks her directly in the eye, sincere.
"I won't ever tell anyone, Faith. I promise."
That's not what I was...
Buffy's looking at her very expectantly.
Oh. Right. "Yeah, I won't tell anyone, either."
***
In her motel bathroom, Faith contemplates her image in the mirror. She
detests what she sees.
Mentally reviews her chat with Mrs. Post earlier that day.
"His methods are unfathomable to me. I find him entirely confounding...
But that's not important. Let him have his games and secret meetings
-"
"What meeting?"
"I don't know. Something between Buffy and her friends."
"I guess that doesn't include me."
A hot sting swells in her eyes, but Faith refuses to acknowledge
it.
She yanks the faucet on and scrubs her face harshly with a bar of aged
soap.
Pats her skin with a flimsy paper towel.
Digs through her plastic makeup bag for lipstick and eyeliner.
Paints on a fresh coat and leaves for the Bronze.
THE
END
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