Smitten

Chapter Three
*

She says, "Where is the place that the good souls go?
Where they take away, take away, the pain that they know?
Where are the angels, angels, angels?"

I cannot tell you, my little darling.
All my faith has fallen, fallen, fallen.
Fallen, by Bree Sharp

*

The world slammed to a standstill.

The alley was empty. There was no sign, no evidence, nothing to show that Angel had been there a moment before. There was only a drift of ash in the wind; a scent of dead roses and freshly turned earth. The smell of cemeteries. Angel's smell.

Faith backed up a step, holding out her empty hands. The arrow had dusted as well. "Jesus, B--Buffy. I--I didn't know--"

Buffy stared at the oil-stained dumpster, the indentation in the metal where Angel's body had slammed into it--where she'd thrown him. Her chest burned, her heartbeat pounded in her wrists like a hammer. She couldn't breathe. She hurt, every bruise or slash clamouring for attention. She shook her head, slowly, once, twice, then turned to look at Faith.

Faith stared back at her, her eyes wide. Something there. Regret, yes. And...fear. But, also--pleasure. The death-lust.

Slayer. Vampire. Dead vampire.

Buffy crouched down beside the dumpster and reached out to touch the ground where he'd been. Her fingers were shaking. The grime coating the asphalt felt slick, gritty, cold. The wind kicked up sharp gusts of dirt, chilling her now that she wasn't running. The feel of vampires lurking was fading, was already gone. No more Eliminati, not tonight. They'd go back to their master and tell him how they'd lost, again. The satisfaction in that thought seemed very far away.

"Buffy--shit, I'm sorry--"

A touch on her shoulder. Warm. Trembling.

This time she did nothing to stop the instinctive attack.

She launched herself out of her crouch and smashed a right uppercut into Faith's jaw. The shock on her face was almost comic, filling Buffy with a vicious gratification. This was desire. She wanted to hurt, to destroy, anything, everything her body was begging for. She plowed her fist into Faith's gut, doubling her over. Pleasure thrummed through her, a vibration too deep to hear. Buffy grabbed Faith's head and pulled it down, bringing up her knee into her face.

She missed. Faith shoved her leg aside, spinning her around, then kicked the back of her knee and dropped her on her back. Pain flared, pale next to the red glare of her fury. Buffy flipped to her feet and drove forward with a kick that clipped Faith's thigh even as she was backing up. Seeing Faith limp filled Buffy with a savage joy, spurring her forward. Faith's hands were up defensively, a bruise already showing on her chin, almost as dark as her makeup, her lower lip swollen as if with kisses.

Buffy rushed her, throwing wild punches, not caring where they landed. Pain roared in her knuckles with every hit, satisfying yet feeding her hunger. Faith blocked most of them, making no attempt to fight back, only to thrust her away. Buffy fought blind, the world blurred by tears. Cold air corroded her lungs, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe. Lust stormed through her, every wish she'd never made, every urge she'd never given in to. She snapped a kick at Faith's chest, but Faith caught her foot and pushed, sending her sprawling again.

Faith bent over, one arm hugging her ribs, panting. "Buffy--what the hell..."

Buffy wanted to stop, and she wanted to go on forever. Faith watched her like she was a rabid dog. Buffy lay on the ground where she'd been thrown, sobbing. Faith wasn't--wouldn't let herself be--a part of this. Her eyes flicked from side to side, searching for an escape. Behind the bruises, her makeup was smudged and running. The wind whipped at her hair, leaving it a dark curly tangle. Faith clenched her hands into fists, but she was quaking, her whole body trembling. Not with fear. No. She wasn't afraid.

Faith was holding herself back.

Furious, Buffy scrambled to her feet and lunged at Faith, crashing with her into the wall, their bodies pressed together. Faith's breath exploded out, a wash of cigarette smoke. They were both slick with sweat, smeared with the alley's filth. Buffy held Faith's upper arms, her fingers digging into her flesh, shivering as each harsh pant brushed Faith's breasts against hers.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, leaning her forehead against Faith's shoulder, her tears hot against their chilled skin. Faith was still, but her breathing grew ragged, the tension melting out of her muscles. Buffy bit her lip, concentrating on the electric feel of her silk top sliding across her nipples as they moved. With a sound--some sound, a whimper, a word, Faith's name--Buffy turned her head and nipped at the pulse fluttering in Faith's neck. Faith jerked, and Buffy's hands tightened automatically on her arms. There would be bruises there, the shape of her fingers, but Buffy was long past caring.

She let go with her teeth and sucked at the spot, moving her lips over Faith's neck and jaw. Faith moved her head, not trying to get away, but not trying to get closer, either. Anger drifted beneath Buffy's desire, a dark undercurrent, and she bit Faith again, harder. Faith's breath burst out next to her ear, making her shiver. Her mouth glided lightly over the bruise from her first punch, moving away again. Buffy flicked her tongue out, feg thg the heat of blood throbbing through Faith's puffed lip.

"Buffy..." The word was whispered nearly into her mouth.

Buffy froze. Faith pulled back a hair's breadth, her eyes only reflected pools in the darkness. "What the hell, Buffy? Why are you fucking with me?"

Buffy moved closer, pressing Faith harder against the wall, feeling the frantic gush of pleasure between her legs. "Because I want to."

Faith turned her head, looking away. "The hell you do."

Buffy let go of Faith's arm and snaked her hand down her front, over the zipper of her leather pants. Squeezed. "Tell me you don't get off on this," she said. Mocking. Harsh.

Faith grabbed Buffy's arm and swung her around, too fast for Buffy to respond, trapping her in a full nelson. Buffy lurched forward. Faith followed the motion and then hauled her back. Buffy threw her head into Faith's face, but Faith ducked away. She squirmed madly in Faith's arms, fighting and writhing. She didn't know what she was struggling for, to escape from Faith's hold or to get as much friction from the encounter as she could. She panted out curses, thrusting her ass into Faith's crotch. Finally, exhausted, she stopped, fighting her desire to melt backwards into Faith's solid strength.

"You don't know what the hell you want," Faith whispered into her ear, her voice rough. "I just fucking staked your boyfriend after you threw him at me. You think you can screw me over?" She loosened her hold with one arm, slithering her fingers down Buffy's front, mimicking her actions from before. Her hand pushed beneath the waistband of Buffy's pants. Buffy gasped as fire shot through her. Faith's fingers slipped easily into her soaking pussy, rubbing small, gentle circles around her clit with her thumb. Buffy twitched and moaned, twisting closer to Faith's hand. She could feel her orgasm building quickly, its sweet, hurtful edge knifing through her thighs, her stomach. She opened her mouth to scream--

And Faith pulled her hand away. She shoved Buffy and stepped back at the same time, so that they stood facing each other. By whatever instinct, they were both crouched into fighting stances, fists raised. Faith lifted her hand to her mouth and sucked Buffy's juices off her fingers one at a time, watching Buffy's eyes the entire time.

"Bitch," Buffy hissed, vicious with frustrated longing.

"Whatever, girlfriend," Faith said. "How would you feel tomorrow knowing you'd been fucked five minutes after Angel bit it?"

Buffy shrugged angrily. She hung on the brink of coming, needing something, anything, to get her off. Needing Faith. She was still coiled, tight, ready to lash out in any direction. Most likely, Faith's direction. But the cold and the standing were bleeding away the slay-lust, and she was falling. She tried not to look at the empty space near the dumpster. "Where do you get off telling me what to feel?"

"I don't," Faith said. "And believe me, I'm not happy about it." She relaxed, slowly, keeping a sharp eye on Buffy's fists. "This ends. Now."

Buffy dropped her fists. She let her head fall, and pressed the heel of one hand into her pelvic bone, shuddering. "Please, Faith..."

Faith stepped forward, backing her up until she was leaning back into the frigid metal. She looked Buffy up and down, the familiar wolfish leer. "What, B?" she asked. "You want me to fuck you? You want to come for me, you want me to make you scream?" She smiled, consideringly, her hand hovering a fraction of an inch above Buffy's collarbone. Buffy could feel the heat of her hands, her body, so close, so fucking close...

"Yes," she breathed, tilting her head back against the dumpster, baring her throat.

Faith's hand closed on her neck and squeezed, lightly, but with all the threat of her Slayer strength. "It'll end like shit," she said, stroking her thumb over Buffy's pulse. Her eyes were as dark as oil slicks, and Buffy could see her wavering--the lust, the wanting.

"I don't care," Buffy said. "Get some, get gone--that's your motto."

Faith's hand spasmed shut, cutting off Buffy's breath for an agonizing instant. She stepped back. "The answer's no," she said. "Not like this. Never again like this."

"I--" Buffy stopped, wondering what never again meant, then forced it out: "I need it."

Faith turned away. "Angel was a nice guy. I'm sorry. Maybe tomorrow that'll mean something to you. I'm taking you home, and if that means hauling your ass over my shoulder, then that's how it'll be."

Buffy shook her head. Her eyes skittered over the dusty alley ground, again. "I can't--"

Faith looked over her shoulder. "You need to."

Buffy slumped back against the dumpster, closing her eyes. She was sweaty and dirty and sore; she could still feel her body singing on its slay-high, the desire washing over her. And Angel was dead. Tears burned salty trails down her cheeks. She felt Faith take her hand, warm and solid, squeezing even though her knuckles were split and bruised.

"Buffy. It's time to go home."

Buffy allowed herself to be led.

*

To be continued...*happy sigh*