Smitten

Packing to move? No desk for your computer any more? What is this crazy talk? Real Life means nothing, I say! Nothing!

Chapter Five

I've been swallowed up by greed,
I've been spat upon by lust.
If they ain't playing with your money,
they're playing with your trust.

And I'm trying so hard to stop sitting still
To gather the juice that's been spent or been spilled
To find a spark in myself that hasn't been killed
Cause if Death doesn't get you then Life surely will.
Fool's Gold by Bree Sharp

*

Willow came back into the room, looking like a puppy that knows it's done wrong, but hoping to be forgiven anyway. Buffy stared through her. She wanted to pretend that none of this was happening, that she was a normal girl without a Slayer's senses, a Slayer's desires.

It was impossible. She felt like someone was shuffling across the carpet and then poking her--she twitched with each staticky spark, her nipples hardening with unwanted excitement. She hunched forward, as if hiding her arousal from Willow could somehow erase it from her mind.

"Faith left," Willow said, sitting beside her. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"

Buffy shook her head. "No..."

"I don't think you should be all by yourself," Willow said. "It doesn't have to be all about--I mean, I could just tell your mom it's a sleepover. And if you needed anything..."

"No." It came out stronger this time, and Willow winced. "I mean, I--I just want to be alone," Buffy said. "For tonight, Will, okay? I don't need anything, I don't--it's not you; it's--I can't be around people right now. It's too soon."

Willow nodded cautiously. "Okay," she said, in a tone that was anything but okay.

Buffy knew Willow wanted more reassurance than that. She wanted Buffy to comfort her, to convince her that everything was going to be just fine. Add that duty to the Slayer's calling: make sure everyone was feeling empowered in their ability to help her. Which wasn't fair. Willow didn't mean it like that--she was trying to be a best friend, as she saw it, and make sure Buffy wouldn't turn Juliet the instant her back was turned. But more than anything it felt like an obligation. As if not being okay meant failing some test of friendship.

"Thanks," she said, and turned back to the window.

Willow got up, and hesitated for a long moment. "Well...I'll see you, then. Monday? For school?"

Buffy nodded. The sparks weren't going away. She rubbed her arms, where all the little hairs were standing up.

"Okay, well...bye." Willow gathered up her protection spells and left the room with one last pleading look back, closing the door behind her.

As soon as she was gone, Faith swung herself up into the tree and leapt to the roof. She pushed the window open wider and dropped inside, as lightly as a panther. She tossed her jacket aside, restlessly flexing her hands. All the air seemed to go out of the room as Buffy watched her approach. The brief static sparks came quicker, closer together, until her body hummed like a live wire. She forced herself not to squirm under Faith's predatory gaze, not to cross her arms to hide the rapid rise and fall of her chest. And the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra.

"So you want to be alone?" Faith asked, placing one fist on either side of Buffy's hips, invading her personal space. She leaned forward until there was only a breath between them.

"Faith..." Buffy wanted to explain, but the words wouldn't come. They were lost in Faith's eyes, that dark angry stare. Worse than angry. Hurt. Betrayed.

"Because I fucking well wouldn't want to mess with what Saint Buffy wants," Faith said. "She's so fucking perfect, what she wants must be what's right."

Buffy pulled away from Faith, her breath catching in her throat, moving backwards on the bed. Not enough to get away. Not nearly enough...and she refused to think about why she wasn't running, fighting, escaping. Faith followed after her, as Buffy knew she would, and shoved her sharply down on her back. Buffy twisted out from beneath her, pushing back. Faith lay half on top of her, grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head, squeezing hard enough to hurt. Not hard enough that Buffy couldn't break her hold, if she tried.

She didn't try.

"What she wants isn't always so perfect, though," Faith muttered, her eyes raking Buffy's body, her warm weight holding Buffy down. Her clothes smelled like smoke and sweat, her hair like cheap bar soap. Buffy closed her eyes and turned her head, as if that much denial could save her--as if everything could be right again if only she could believe this wasn't happening.

But it was, and she wanted it, and Faith knew it. Faith grasped her chin and turned her back, waiting for Buffy to open her eyes. When she did, Faith let go. Her hand drifted lower, to explore underneath the hem of Buffy's silky tank top, brushing feathery strokes over her stomach and side. This chaste touch was even more exciting than yesterday's rough intimacy, and now she couldn't blame their slaying for the tight, shaky delight building somewhere south of Faith's roaming hand. They stared at each other, Buffy's lungs working in short, sharp pants, Faith's deeper breaths pushing her breasts into Buffy's.

For a long moment it seemed that Faith would go no further, or would ask before she did, but then her eyes darkened with lust or anger or the memory of last night, and she squeezed harder at Buffy's trapped hands. Faith kissed her, her lips almost violent, and yet somehow soft. Buffy arched off the bed, her head held between her raised arms, her body trapped by Faith's tender hand and Faith's leg overlapping hers.

Faith's tongue stabbed into her mouth, and Buffy gasped with surprise. It had been so long since she'd been kissed by someone living. The heat of Faith's mouth took her breath away. She expected Faith to taste of cigarettes, but instead her breath was sharp and minty. Faith pressed her more firmly into the mattress, her hand moving higher, one finger sliding along the underside of Buffy's breast, into the soft hollow of her armpit.

Cautiously, Buffy allowed her tongue to meet Faith's, closing her eyes to better concentrate on the feel of the kiss. It was almost like sparring, in some strange way--circling and maneuvering for position, seeing who could come out on top. She was sweating and panting and nothing but sensation and desire, and that was like sparring also--at least, sparring with Faith. Faith's hand circled back again, higher this time, pushing Buffy's shirt up to her collarbone.

All of the sudden Faith's fingers pinched her erect nipple, hard. Fire and pain exploded inside her. Buffy bucked off the bed, her shout muffled by Faith's mouth. She reared up into the kiss, fighting a little to twine Faith's tongue firmly around hers. She wriggled, trying half-heartedly to free her arms, but Faith's grip was steady on her wrists. Her fingers grew gentler on Buffy's breast, soothing the hurt, leaving only the hot throb of pleasure. It spread, joining the slick wetness between her thighs, where Faith's strong leg rested against her pussy.

Buffy bucked up again, slowly, but more forcefully, and Faith gasped into the kiss. Her hand started moving downwards again, over Buffy's stomach, descending to where they werarlyarly joined together, and Buffy writhed, waiting for it, waiting.

They both heard the sound at the same instant--the creak of floorboards under someone's feet. Mom, coming upstairs. Buffy moaned, once, a frantic sound that Faith ignored. The footsteps came closer--the top of the stairs--down the hall--Buffy whimpered again, more urgently, as they heard the footsteps approach the room. For a moment it seemed that Faith wouldn't stop, that the insistent, bruising kiss would never end and Mom would walk in on them and--

Faith growled and rolled off her. Buffy barely had enough time to sit up and yank her shirt down before her mom opened the door. Buffy held her breath, her face flaming. Faith lay behind her on the bed, her head propped on her folded arms, the mask of indifference firmly in place once more.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah, Mom?" Buffy wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, a quick, furtive movement, rubbing away any trace of Faith's lipstick.

"I wanted to see how you were doing...any better since this morning?"

Buffy nodded. "I'm fine. But there's a demon--Faith and me are getting with the slayage tonight. We won't be late."

Mom smiled knowingly. "Ah. Of course. You're going out slaying."

"Yeah," Buffy said, suddenly going cold. Had her mom heard them? Why the wink-w nud nudge-nudge agreement? "What do you mean?"

"Not going out to the Bronze again?" Mom asked, raising her eyebrows. "Because it occurs to me that the battle of good and evil is an excellent excuse to get out of having a curfew, don't you think?"

"Oh--yeah--great," Buffy said, with an uneasy laugh. "Good one, Mom. I'll have to use that one of these days. Destiny."

"Hmm," Mom said. "Well, you be safe. Nothing too dangerous."

"Don't worry, Mrs. S," Faith said, not getting up. "I'll keep an eye on her."

Buffy wondered if that was a promise or a threat. There was nothing in Faith's voice to suggest she'd meant anything more than exactly what she said, but on the other hand, it was Faith. And maybe she thought that this, between them, meant something; but Buffy wasn't so sure.

Mom shook her head, leaning against the door jamb. "I meant both of you, Faith." She eyed Faith affectionately. "Okay. Enough mothering. I guess you two know what you're doing. I'll see you tomorrow."

When she left, Buffy sprang up as if the bed was on fire. Know what they were doing? She had no clue what was going on, or why she'd let Faith go so far, or why she'd been such an active, willing participant--knowing what she was doing was about the last thing on her personal list of achievements. How could she go out slaying like this? She'd--she'd lose control--worse, she'd lose herself; and someone could get hurt or killed--

And someone had. How could she forget that? Forget Angel? A day later and she wanted nothing more than to see where Faith would take this, if only they weren't here. In her room, where she'd so often kissed Angel goodnight--in her room, where her mom had very few worries about walking straight in. If only it weren't them--if she never had to face Willow or Giles or worse, Xander--if she'd never known Angel, or thought, childishly, that she'd found true love--if only--

With a disgusted noise at her own thoughts, she started digging through her drawers for an outfit more appropriate for slaying. No matter what the danger to herself, Faith was right--she couldn't send her to Balthazar alone. If Faith died--

But her brain stuttered away from that thought.

She found a bra and a thicker shirt, and turned around, about to order Faith out while she changed, then realized how useless that would be. Acting before she could think about it, she stripped off the tank top.

The swift hiss of Faith's breath stopped her and she looked over. Faith had sat up and leaned against the headboards, and was watching her, but she was bright red. If it had been anyone else, Buffy would have thought she'd embarrassed them, but Faith? She blushed herself and quickly put on her clothes. She thought about changing her pants, as well, because right now she was in serious need of some new panties...but no er her how cute an embarrassed Faith was, Buffy wasn't ready to go that far. Faith was frankly staring at her, breathing hard, and now she was cupping herself over her jeans and rubbing, slowly, rhythmically. Their eyes met, but Faith didn't stop...in fact, her hand sped up, pausing every now and then and her whole body would go still for an instant and she would release a short, sharp sigh.

Buffy didn't know how it happened, but she was on the bed again, and this time Faith was beneath her, and her hand covered Faith's. She let Faith guide her, but used the angle and her better leverage to apply more pressure. She watched the small twitches in Faith's expression, the open, hungry look in her eyes. When Faith tried to go faster, Buffy pulled her back, keeping the steady rhythm.

Faith grunted and lifted her hips, her eyes sliding closed. Buffy touched the cleft in the middle of her lower lip and Faith looked at her again--now, desperate, her hand limp beneath Buffy's.

This was entirely within her hands, literally, and she didn't know if she could--

But Faith didn't give her time to think. She surged forward, burying her lips on Buffy's neck, sucking and biting, humping Buffy's hand wildly. Buffy gasped, tipped her head back, matched the movement of her hand to Faith's frenzy, felt the liquid heat through the crotch of Faith's jeans. Faith groaned, one long release of air, and rested leaning against Buffy, both of them sitting facing each other on the bed.

When she looked up, a single strand of dark hair, sweat-dampened, trailed across her cheek, and Buffy brushed it aside. This close, she could see that the last of Faith's black eye and swollen lip were healed. And Balthazar awaited them.

"I'll go with you," Buffy said.

Faith pulled her closer and kissed her. It was shorter, sharper, sweeter than before. It felt good; it felt right; it felt like giving in, giving up. It felt like forgetting.

"I'm scared," she said, eyes closed, millimeters from Faith's lips--imagining a million different scenes, not knowing if she wanted anything other than this.

"I know," Faith replied, and her kiss told Buffy that she was scared too.

Buffy didn't know whether they were talking about Balthazar or them: one, the other, or both.

And maybe, in the end, it didn't matter.

*

To Be Continued.