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pepperlandgirl) wrote2008-07-10 01:18 am
pepperlandgirl) wrote2008-07-10 01:18 am
Fic: Slayers (Faith/Buffy)
Title: Slayers
Summary: Buffy/Faith, hints of Buffy/Angel. Set early S3, maybe just before Revelations. Buffy has issues with sex and desire and fighting. She's something of a warped girl...950 words
Rating: R
Blood roared in her ears. The hairs on her neck and arms were on end, a rash of goosebumps across her skin, despite the unseasonably hot night. Sweat rolled down her neck in fat, annoying drops. She ignored that—it wasn't half as annoying as the dampness between her thighs. She knew what happened when she spent time with Angel. She still remembered the horror he had inflicted on her and the pain of fighting him. All the ugliness lived with her every single day. So why did being around him still give her that so-called good tingle? Why did all her blood rush south until she felt like she was going to scream or faint?
Why couldn't she keep her mouth to herself?
Things would be much easier if she just stopped kissing him, Buffy knew it. And sometimes a whole hour would pass. Sometimes more. And neither one of them would make a single move, and then all of a sudden....boom. Kissage. How did that happen? And why did the first contact make her ache like nobody had ever touched her before and nobody would ever touch her again?
Buffy hated that most of all. Because nothing could touch that ache. She'd take care of it herself, but it didn't help. Slaying barely took the edge off. Of course, that didn't mean she wouldn't slay. She'd stake things all night, if she had to, and try not to think of Angel staking her.
Grunts and shouts infiltrated the haze in her head, and she automatically went towards the sounds. When she recognized Faith's voice, her step turned into a quick trot. She hurried through the cemetery, leaping over a tall tombstone without breaking stride. But when she finally reached the clearing, she made a hard stop, almost tripping over her own feet in the process.
Faith was there, all right. And she was fighting. Not one, not two, but three vampires. And she was kicking ass, all flowing hair, candy lipstick, and red leather pants. Buffy knew she couldn't explain it sufficiently, so she never tried, but she loved to watch Faith. She knew she looked good when she fought. She felt good. But there was no way she could half-as-good as Faith did in that moment, or have half as much fun.
Faith was wild.
She only pretended to be domesticated when she had to.
No mother.
No Watcher.
No group of friends making demands and judgments.
Buffy envied that freedom. Even if she could barely admit it to herself.
And when she watched Faith like that, she wanted more than that freedom. She wanted Faith. But not in the way she wanted Angel. Not in the reserved way she had wanted Scott Hope. She wanted to be Faith. She wanted to have Faith. She wanted Faith to have her. Was it a Slayer thing? If it was, it was not a Slayer thing she'd ever ask Giles about.
Faith finished off the vampires in rapid succession. One. Two. Three. Surprisingly efficient for her. Not because she wasn't good, but because Faith didn't like these things to end too soon.
Unless she had something else to distract her.
“You there, B?”
Buffy stepped out of the shadows. “How did you know?”
“I could feel you watching me.”
“Three tonight.”
“Yeah, something's got them out tonight in force. Some sort of vampire holiday or something?”
Buffy shrugged. “Giles hasn't mentioned anything.”
“Maybe something's just got them antsy.” She wiggled her hips and arms in a familiar shimmy. “Can't you feel it? Something in the air.”
Buffy wished there was something in the air. Something she could blame this on, because she was still aching. “Maybe. I don't feel anything.”
Faith snorted. “You feel it.” She took a step closer and another. Buffy crossed her arms and stood her ground. “I know you do.”
“What's it, Faith?”
“That's why you're out here. Something has got your back up. Were you at the Bronze?”
Faith was still closing in on her. “No.”
“You sure? Because I've seen you look like this before. When you're dancing.”
Buffy's face flamed. She didn't react that way when she danced with just anybody—like Xander or Scott. She got that way when she danced with Faith. And Faith could sense it? Faith knew?
“No. No dancing for this girl tonight. I've just been slaying.”
“Maybe that did it.”
“No.”
“You're such a liar.” Now Faith was completely invading her space. She took Buffy's shoulder and pushed her back. “It gets you hot and bothered, too. Admit it.”
“I'm not...”
“Admit it, and I'll let you go.”
“You're going to let me go anyway.”
Faith grinned. “Make me.”
This was a familiar game. Faith goaded her into a fight. Buffy gave her what she wanted—what they both wanted. She distracted Faith with a fist towards her chest, and kicked her knees out from under her. Faith hit the ground, but she didn't release Buffy. They rolled across the cool grass, struggling with each other until they broke apart and both jumped to their feet.
“Feel good?” Faith asked.
“It didn't suck.”
“Let's do this, then.”
Buffy dodged a fist and followed that up with a blow of her own. It did feel good. Better than good. And if the contact lasted a little longer than it should, and if they rolled on the ground more than necessary, Faith didn't say anything and Buffy pretended not to notice. This was good, Buffy told herself. Like training. They kept each other focused.
Sharp.
Sated and unsatisfied at the same time.
Summary: Buffy/Faith, hints of Buffy/Angel. Set early S3, maybe just before Revelations. Buffy has issues with sex and desire and fighting. She's something of a warped girl...950 words
Rating: R
Blood roared in her ears. The hairs on her neck and arms were on end, a rash of goosebumps across her skin, despite the unseasonably hot night. Sweat rolled down her neck in fat, annoying drops. She ignored that—it wasn't half as annoying as the dampness between her thighs. She knew what happened when she spent time with Angel. She still remembered the horror he had inflicted on her and the pain of fighting him. All the ugliness lived with her every single day. So why did being around him still give her that so-called good tingle? Why did all her blood rush south until she felt like she was going to scream or faint?
Why couldn't she keep her mouth to herself?
Things would be much easier if she just stopped kissing him, Buffy knew it. And sometimes a whole hour would pass. Sometimes more. And neither one of them would make a single move, and then all of a sudden....boom. Kissage. How did that happen? And why did the first contact make her ache like nobody had ever touched her before and nobody would ever touch her again?
Buffy hated that most of all. Because nothing could touch that ache. She'd take care of it herself, but it didn't help. Slaying barely took the edge off. Of course, that didn't mean she wouldn't slay. She'd stake things all night, if she had to, and try not to think of Angel staking her.
Grunts and shouts infiltrated the haze in her head, and she automatically went towards the sounds. When she recognized Faith's voice, her step turned into a quick trot. She hurried through the cemetery, leaping over a tall tombstone without breaking stride. But when she finally reached the clearing, she made a hard stop, almost tripping over her own feet in the process.
Faith was there, all right. And she was fighting. Not one, not two, but three vampires. And she was kicking ass, all flowing hair, candy lipstick, and red leather pants. Buffy knew she couldn't explain it sufficiently, so she never tried, but she loved to watch Faith. She knew she looked good when she fought. She felt good. But there was no way she could half-as-good as Faith did in that moment, or have half as much fun.
Faith was wild.
She only pretended to be domesticated when she had to.
No mother.
No Watcher.
No group of friends making demands and judgments.
Buffy envied that freedom. Even if she could barely admit it to herself.
And when she watched Faith like that, she wanted more than that freedom. She wanted Faith. But not in the way she wanted Angel. Not in the reserved way she had wanted Scott Hope. She wanted to be Faith. She wanted to have Faith. She wanted Faith to have her. Was it a Slayer thing? If it was, it was not a Slayer thing she'd ever ask Giles about.
Faith finished off the vampires in rapid succession. One. Two. Three. Surprisingly efficient for her. Not because she wasn't good, but because Faith didn't like these things to end too soon.
Unless she had something else to distract her.
“You there, B?”
Buffy stepped out of the shadows. “How did you know?”
“I could feel you watching me.”
“Three tonight.”
“Yeah, something's got them out tonight in force. Some sort of vampire holiday or something?”
Buffy shrugged. “Giles hasn't mentioned anything.”
“Maybe something's just got them antsy.” She wiggled her hips and arms in a familiar shimmy. “Can't you feel it? Something in the air.”
Buffy wished there was something in the air. Something she could blame this on, because she was still aching. “Maybe. I don't feel anything.”
Faith snorted. “You feel it.” She took a step closer and another. Buffy crossed her arms and stood her ground. “I know you do.”
“What's it, Faith?”
“That's why you're out here. Something has got your back up. Were you at the Bronze?”
Faith was still closing in on her. “No.”
“You sure? Because I've seen you look like this before. When you're dancing.”
Buffy's face flamed. She didn't react that way when she danced with just anybody—like Xander or Scott. She got that way when she danced with Faith. And Faith could sense it? Faith knew?
“No. No dancing for this girl tonight. I've just been slaying.”
“Maybe that did it.”
“No.”
“You're such a liar.” Now Faith was completely invading her space. She took Buffy's shoulder and pushed her back. “It gets you hot and bothered, too. Admit it.”
“I'm not...”
“Admit it, and I'll let you go.”
“You're going to let me go anyway.”
Faith grinned. “Make me.”
This was a familiar game. Faith goaded her into a fight. Buffy gave her what she wanted—what they both wanted. She distracted Faith with a fist towards her chest, and kicked her knees out from under her. Faith hit the ground, but she didn't release Buffy. They rolled across the cool grass, struggling with each other until they broke apart and both jumped to their feet.
“Feel good?” Faith asked.
“It didn't suck.”
“Let's do this, then.”
Buffy dodged a fist and followed that up with a blow of her own. It did feel good. Better than good. And if the contact lasted a little longer than it should, and if they rolled on the ground more than necessary, Faith didn't say anything and Buffy pretended not to notice. This was good, Buffy told herself. Like training. They kept each other focused.
Sharp.
Sated and unsatisfied at the same time.
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::printing to read on way to work::
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