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Sunshine & Cotton Candy

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Buffy talks as they patrol, about teachers and dances and chemistry tests and a dozen other things that are as distant and unreal to Faith's world as Giles' snobby accent and Willow's little spells.

She had thought for weeks that Buffy was pretending -- playing the part of Little Miss Cheerleader while actually understanding the difference between a Slayer and the mass of pimply-faced drones who flowed in and out of Sunnydale High.  But Faith eventually realized that not only did Buffy not understand, she was actively struggling against her gifts, her destiny.

'Into each generation a Slayer is born.'  Only one.  Well, one or two.  Or three, but that wasn't the point.  The point was that they were different.  Special.  Unique, even if there were two of them.  The rules were meant to keep the sheep in line; they were never meant to leash a Slayer.

Faith sighs, spinning on her heels, and Buffy stops short with raised eyebrows.  The stream of mundane details trails off as Buffy waits for Faith to speak.

"I'm bored, B.  This place is dead."  Faith glances around the graveyard and grins at her unintentional pun.

Buffy follows Faith's look around the graveyard, and slides her stake into a side pocket of the red leather jacket she's wearing.  Faith often wonders how many jackets sweet little rich girls need for the warm California nights, but apparently it's a lot, and not an argument Faith wants to have right now   She'll save it for a night when she wants to fight.

"Dead in the good, not-still-walking way, which I gotta say I like."  Buffy brushes a strand of blond hair out of her eyes and shrugs.  "What's Plan B?"

"Is there anything to do in this town?"

"Well..." Buffy pauses, and Faith knows the answer already.  "There's The Bronze."

Faith thinks about The Bronze.  It's a little tame for her tastes, but a flash of memory from their last visit flashes through her mind, and she smiles bright and hot.  "Yeah.  Sounds good." 

It'd been a little over a week ago, Buffy and Faith on the dance floor, and the innocent boys and girls of Sunnydale had floated around them while the Slayers danced on and on.  Faith remembers the smell of Buffy's sweat and the way the small strands of blond hair on her temples had stuck to the damp skin.  Buffy had started out trying to dance with the boys that came and went, but in the end she danced with Faith alone.

The Bronze would be just fine.

* * * * *

It's just the way Faith likes it best, with hot lights, a solid crowd, and a band playing music like an audible assault.  It's like fighting when the music's like this, like the music is an enemy and Faith lets her body respond to it without thought, respond as the rhythm and flow takes over.  Fighting and dancing and sex mean feeling, not thinking.  Willow would be surprised, if she knew how hard it was for Faith to get her brain to shut up.

Buffy moves slowly at first, gets into it awkwardly, then something clicks and she's flowing with Faith.  The others slide around the pair, boys come and go, girls edge close and away, but the music stays and Buffy stays, and that's all Faith needs.

The music dips into a slow song - had to happen sometime - and Buffy starts to turn away.  Faith catches her hand, smiles, and tangles their fingers together.  The music pulses slow, and Faith rolls her hips in a tight circle and undulates her stomach and chest in a wave.  A small step and she's nearly touching the silky-looking polyester of Buffy's shirt.

"Where you goin', girlfriend?  Cuttin' out on me?"  Faith smiles slow and lazy and lets the music move her body in another wave as she runs her free hand down Buffy's hip.

Buffy doesn't answer with words, but she smiles back, that same slow and lazy smile.  Her head rolls back and blond hair spills over one shoulder and then the other.  Then she's moving with Faith, letting the music pull them both like a tide.

There's the smell of beer and the smell of sweat and Faith feels as high as she's ever been.  Buffy closes her eyes and her head tilts back and rolls with the music, then she's looking at Faith like they're the only two people in the world.  An image flashes into Faith's mind, of Angel and Buffy and the night Angelus came back, and she wonders if Angel felt like this and if, somewhere deep down he still thought it'd been worth the price.

Faith laughs out loud, wondering if she fucked Buffy, if the adrenaline would burn out or if she'd want to kill someone afterwards.  And would that be rush enough to wipe the memory from her mind?  The memory of Buffy gasping and panting and moaning...

The sudden sound of drums hit her as the band breaks into a new fast song, and Faith stops dead and looks at Buffy.

Buffy's looking back, and Faith hopes they're both thinking the same thing.  If either of them were a guy, it'd be obvious, but Buffy's such a good girl.  So many chances to misunderstand.  So Faith makes a feint, and waits if Buffy sees it.

"Man, I feel like a good fuck right now."  She holds Buffy's eyes when she says it.  And she waits.  Waits to see if Buffy will start talking about a guy; waits to see if Buffy will just run.

There's a tip of a tongue that slides along lips stained from the remainder of lipstick worn off a long time past.  Just a flash of tongue, and a pause, and Buffy's eyes never waver.  "Yeah.  Me, too."

Neither of them means with a guy.

As they walk out the door, Faith grabs a full bottle of beer off a table where someone left it when they went to dance.  She's taking a swig as the door opens and the cool night air hits her in the face and Buffy looks back and flashes Faith with that dazzling smile everyone loves.

Some nights, you get everything you ask for, if you're brave enough to ask at all.  It's why Faith keeps bothering to check, just in case it turns out to be one of those nights.

* * * * *

The walk to her dump of a motel isn't long, but Faith's waiting the entire way for Buffy to say it's late and she has to go home.  But when Buffy makes up her mind to do a thing, it gets done and tonight, Faith thinks with a grin, she's doing me.

There's an awkward pause after the door closes, where Buffy spends a few seconds trying to decide if she should talk, or sit, or lie down, or take off her jacket, and tries to do all of them at once and utterly fails to do anything.  Faith never relies on talking when there's action to take instead, so she pulls Buffy into a kiss.

Buffy's fingers are still on the jacket buttons, and she clearly doesn't know quite what to do instead.  Then her hands are moving, moving into Faith's hair, over her shoulders, down her back.  Buffy tastes of the beer Faith shared, and the lip gloss she put on when Faith wasn't looking.

Lip gloss.  It makes Faith want to laugh.

Laughing would mean breaking the kiss, and she wouldn't do that if vampires jumped into the room.  Well, maybe if... she imagines stopping to fight them with Buffy at her side, then going back to the kiss when the dust had settled, and the thought drives away the laughter and she's growling.

She's also pushing, not gently, and Buffy's been backing up.  When her knees hit the edge of the bed, Buffy goes down, flat on her back, and Faith half-pounces, half-crawls on top.  The bed bounces underneath them as Faith sits up on her knees and pulls off her damp t-shirt.

Buffy's eyes widen.  Then slowly, oh so slowly, she reaches out and gently runs a hand up Faith's side, over the long waist and the ribs until she's cupping a breast in her fingers.  The tongue comes out again, and again, then her gaze drifts up from the sight of her hand on the breast to meet Faith's eyes.

Faith grins.  "Go on, B.  You're not gonna hurt me."  She undoes the belt buckle on Buffy's belt, and chuckles.  When she speaks again, her voice is rough.  "And I'm not gonna hurt you, am I?"

Their eyes meet again, and Buffy gets it.  Slayer strength, Slayer toughness, and Buffy says, "No, no one's going to get hurt."  And she's smiling, bright as California sunshine and suddenly, she's in the game, too.

A buck and a twist and Faith's been thrown over onto the bed and Buffy's stripping off the little red jacket and tossing it to the floor as she climbs on top.  The shiny shirt goes next, and the barrette holding up her hair, and Buffy's naked from the waist up.

Faith doesn't pray, ever, but she's not beyond saying a savior's name when faced with a faced with a sight of beauty.

Buffy laughs, and bounces on her knees and her breasts move with the motion.  "Like?"

"Oh yeah, baby."

Then Faith lunges upward, catches Buffy's hair in her hands and catches Buffy's mouth with her own and pulls her down.  Fingers touch breasts, then nipples, then there's the feel of fingernails and teeth and tongues.  The bed creaks as the figures roll, light hair then dark moving into the foreground.

They're arching against each other, dry humping, hips rolling and snapping back against each other's thighs when Faith gets back on top and pulls herself up.  Underneath her, a dazed Buffy looks up with bright eyes and red, puffy lips.

She's unbuttoning her jeans, then unzipping them, and Faith can't help but smiling.  Can't stop smiling, really.  Smoothly, she backs up, slides off the bed, and just as gracefully slides the jeans down over her legs.  Faith never wears underwear, and she kicked off the shoes a lifetime ago, and there's no more to hide. 

She laughs, runs her hands through her hair, then spins in a slow circle with a thrust of her hips. 

"Like?" she asks, and Buffy's tongue makes another appearance.


Faith steps forward, grabs Buffy's hips, and pulls her down the bed until her knees are again bent over the edge.  Then she leans forward and begins undoing the button and the zipper of Buffy's jeans.  Buffy raises her hips to help the denim slide off, but she's wearing boots, so the clothing stops at the ankles.

The boots match the jacket, of course, but not even Buffy's ridiculously large wardrobe can ruin Faith's mood.  There's a tangle of arms and legs, jeans and hair, laughing and tugging as Buffy helps and they almost end up on the floor with the clothes.

Suddenly, almost unexpectedly, they're both naked the laughter stops.

It's Buffy who reaches out first as Faith uncharacteristically hesitates.  There's an ache in Faith's chest as Buffy's fingers stroke down across hips and thigh.  Then she takes Faith's hand in hers, pulls her back to the center of the bed, and the kissing starts anew.

It starts slow, but soon it's again a hot fury of teeth and tongues and Buffy is gasping "yes" and "harder" as Faith's fingers pump in and out.  The sound of the wetness is driving Faith crazy, and she wants... she wants.  She pulls back from the kiss to look down into Buffy's eyes, and it's insane how hard the lust hits her when she sees it.

She's getting what Angel got, looking into eyes filled with a spirit so fierce and a love so strong it saved the world.  Faith wonders what it will do to her, mere mortal that she is, but figures she doesn't have any further to fall.

Then the thought passes and she brings her fingers up to her mouth, still looking down into Buffy's eyes.  Faith slides the fingers over her tongue, lets her tongue sneak out to wrap around them, then separates the fingers, and runs it back up between them to the tips.  Deep-throating them won't do for Buffy what it does to the guys, but Faith does it anyway, just to suck off all the fluid.

There's a deep moan from Buffy as the fingers go in, and Faith is perversely delighted at the taste.  Part of her half-expected Buffy to taste like sunshine and cotton candy, and it's better that she doesn't.  It's better that she's salty and sour and slightly bitter... it puts Faith on even footing somehow. 

Faith starts working her way down Buffy's length, kissing and licking and biting occasionally.  Under her, Buffy is moaning and arching, whispering, "hurry" in a soft, rough voice.  But there's no power in the universe that would make Faith miss a step.

She moves down, stops over the patch of dark blond hair, grabs a bunch with her lips and teeth and pulls slowly up, looking up at Buffy through her eyelashes.  Buffy groans, and pushes with her hands.  "Down," she's saying, and "please". 

And Faith goes down.

There's a scream from the girl under her mouth, and Faith would smile if her lips weren't busy.  Buffy has started to say "fuck yes" instead of just "yes" and Faith takes it as a personal triumph that she's made the good girl curse.  When Faith adds her fingers back to the effort, the screaming gets louder and the words change to "fuck me" and Faith keeps doing just that.

The thrashing is hard to keep on top of, and Faith wonders if Buffy would have held back if it were someone else doing fucking her.  Xander really could fuck her, hold her in his arms and slam a dick into her, but Buffy would bruise Xander, maybe break bones.  And Willow...

Willow couldn't do this.  She wouldn't have the guts to step so far over the lines, no matter how much time she spends looking at curvy women. 

Faith pins one of Buffy's legs under her arm to get better leverage and help keep her hips still, and Buffy thrashes even more wildly.  She's losing the rhythm, they both are as Buffy gets closer and closer to the edge.

Buffy's buried both hands in Faith's hair, and she's clenching her teeth when she comes.  Muscles spasm and lock around Faith's shoulders, the leg around her back pulls her in and Faith keeps pumping and licking until Buffy loosens her grip and her muscles go lax.

Fingers slide lazily in and out and Faith looks up at Buffy.  She's sweaty, and her hair's tangled.  The makeup is worn off, except for the mascara that's smudged around the corners of her blue, blue eyes.  Faith thinks she's never looked more beautiful. 

There's a tiny voice in Faith's heart, deep down, who wants to kill Angel for getting to see Buffy look like this…

...or maybe not so tiny a voice, and not all that far down.

Buffy's panting, wiping the hair back from her face and licking her lips.  Faith wonders if the tongue is always out that much, and how could she possibly have not noticed if it were?  She'll have to remember to watch for it in the future.

In the meantime, Faith brings her fingers back up to her mouth.  This time, her whole hand is wet.  She licks at it, letting Buffy watch.  "You liked?"

"Hell, yeah," says good girl Buffy, who never curses, and Faith laughs.

"You give as good as you get, B?"

"I," says Buffy, and stammers.  Her eyes go down for a moment, then back up.  "I don't know.  But Giles always says I'm a fast learner when I apply myself."  Buffy's eyes are sparkling. Her nipples are still hard.  Her innocent-girl smirk is a wicked match for the lust in her eyes. 

Faith is so horny she can barely see, but the comment about Giles makes her laugh.  They're both laughing as they change places, stealing a long kiss as they pass.  Buffy reaches into Faith's mouth with her tongue, tasting herself.

Then the tongue is gone, only to move on towards other areas once they've settled back down.  Buffy follows the path Faith showed her, biting and licking over the curves and hollows of Faith's body, improvising as she goes.  Faith begins to squirm as hand and mouth explore her body, but she keeps her eyes open and watches.

In just a moment, Buffy's going to have her face in pussy for the first time.  Faith isn't going to miss seeing that for anything.

It takes an eternity though, and finally Faith is pushing with her hands, whispering "c'mon" through clenched teeth.  Buffy stops with her face an inch away from where Faith wants it, and looks closely.  A delicate finger comes forward and traces the folds of flesh and Faith groans deep in her throat.  Like a cat, Buffy leans forward and licks, just as delicately, from low to high, and Faith screams but keeps her eyes open.

And finally, finally, Buffy leans forward, buries her tongue as deep as she can get it, and laps and sucks and licks.

Faith watches for as long as she can, then her back arches and her eyes close and she hers herself say, "fuck me!"

Fingers come forward then, as fire and sensation flash along Faith's skin and into her brain.  She screams, she growls, she uses words as vulgar as she can think of.  The fingers speed up and strong, lithe arms hold her on the bed and Faith lets go.

It's too fast, Faith wants to cry, but she's too busy crying out other things and doesn't know what they are.  And Buffy's holding on, riding it out, riding her, fucking her as deep as she can, and Faith feels herself come again, bursting out of her skin, exploding past everything that's ever held her down.  She lets herself feel every second of it, lets herself break apart.

Lets herself reform, though she'd keep from it, if she could

Buffy is lying on Faith's thigh, looking at the damp lips in front of her face, and now and then up at the teeth-marked lips above her.  Finally she crawls up and lies by Faith's side, strangely shy and quiet.

Faith's kicked a lot of men out of her bed, and has never thought twice about it.  Buffy she reaches out for, pulls in and holds tightly.

"That was... okay?" asks Buffy's quiet voice.  Faith looks down into the sincere eyes looking up into hers and grins. 

"Yeah.  That was great, B."

Buffy's mouth twitches a little.  She doesn't like being called 'B', and Faith wishes she hadn't said it.  She can't say 'Buffy', though, she just can't.  It's so... so fucking SoCal, it makes a part of her sick.  People who would name a kid 'Buffy' are as far from Faith's world as... as teachers and dances and chemistry tests and virginity.  In Faith's arms, Buffy is pulling away, not physically, not yet, but it's only a matter of time.

Faith licks her lips.  "Yeah, Buffy.  It was good."  Against her side, Buffy smiles, then looks up.


"Yeah.  Really."

It's late.  Faith can see the red numbers on the alarm clock by the bed.  If Buffy could see them, she'd be up and there'd be a flurry of clothing and maybe of promises.  Faith doesn't want to hear the promises; she doesn't want anything but to stay by Buffy's side.  She's willing to do whatever it takes to make it last a little while longer.

She knows she hasn't gotten anything she's going to get to keep -- she never does.  And now that she's seen what Angel saw, Faith knows she's touched something too fine, transgressed too far.  She hears the sound of dark, unhurried footsteps catching up to her at last, and feels with the dream-like certainty of Slayer premonition that she's falling; falling like Angel fell. 

Still, there's warm breath against her skin, and Buffy's taste in her mouth and Faith has no regrets.