Puppy Love

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I'm just playing with them. Joss Whedon gets full credit and all the money.

A/N: I'm experimenting with certain psychological issues in these characters, and I don't feel like I do the ship justice. Hope you like it anyway.


Cordelia Chase checked her watch as she walked briskly down the busy sidewalk. It's only six, and already dark as midnight, she thought, disgusted. The plaza ahead of her was brightly lit in shimmering reds, greens, golds, blues, and all sorts of festive shades – and some of the displays were quite impressive. Cordelia heaved a sigh as she passed a group of bundled carolers, her boots making an impatient tap-tapping on the ice-encrusted cement. Her pace was hurried, and she struggled not to make eye contact with the other passerbys.

She had to go through several frightfully cheerful holiday arrangements before she reached the tall brown stone building that served as home. Cordelia gritted her teeth, thighs burning from the treacherous four-story climb on creaky, rusted stairways. Gloved hands clutched the iron rails, and she studiously ignored the perilous drop below. It was dimly lit, and a world away from the singing, happy world that dazzled around it. Almost as removed from the holiday mood as Cordelia herself was.

That wasn't really typical for our Queen C. Usually she got really into the season – especially when she reigned over SunnyD high school. Although it never got cold in California, and snowed only when mystical forces were out of whack, Cordy still went out of her way to bring Christmas spirit to that possessed little town. Mostly, because she always looked forward to formal occasions, and the Winter Ball was a worthy enough cause if she chose to make it so. She always did look good in glitter.

Lately, though, her life wasn't giving her much of a reason to celebrate. She had moved to New York City last year, in hopes of making it big as a fashion designer or model, but her dreams of fame and glory crashed and burned within the first three months. Now, she was living in a rent-controlled apartment, surrounded by sleaze bags, in a crummy part of the city, working part time as a waitress, part time as a salesman in a jewelry store, and was still struggling to make end's meet. Still, even that wasn't enough to quash her holiday cheer – usually. She would've normally decorated the shabby place with tinsel and sung cheesy Christmas songs to drown out the drunken fighting or noisy sex, but her heart just wasn't in it this year.

Another wearied sigh sounded when she finally stepped in front of her door, cracked mortar and peeling paint mostly monochromatic in the dark. Her landlord obviously couldn't afford to de-ice the steps, so of course, porch lights were out of the question. Never mind it probably broke about a dozen safety laws. Cordelia fumbled around inside her designer coat, until she retrieved her keys and jingled them, hazarding at which one would unlock her door. She wasn't really focused, though, and the movements were slow.

"Hey, Cor,"

Cordelia’s muffled scream caused the other girl to laugh as she emerged from the shadows, her hair free-flowing, being tossed and tugged by the wind. "Faith," Cordelia said, a little breathlessly. "You scared me!"

"Shh, Cor. You’ll wake her up."

Cordelia hadn't had time to notice the bundle Faith held close to her stomach. One eyebrow arched thinly, she stepped closer to the other girl and saw movement. A muted squeal welcomed the tiny puppy into her arms, and she aimed the most dazzling smile she could manage at Faith. "Is she for me?"

"Of course, girlfriend. Merry Christmas."


Later, much later, when the puppy had spent itself by trying to discover every new sight and smell that was Cordelia's apartment, the two girls sat at what served as Cordy's dining table. Cordelia smiled, cuddling her present, as Faith sipped coffee out of a chipped mug. They didn't say anything, but then, they never said much. Cordelia put the puppy down on a pile of towels in the floor, and standing, guided Faith by the wrist to her bedroom.

Cordelia had always thought that having sex with another girl would be the highest form of narcissism, at least until she met Faith. But now, as she undressed her, she marveled at their differences; a fingertip traced her firmly toned stomach, the skin a warm cream, whereas hers had always been darker, naturally tan. Cordelia's hair was thicker, richer, nearly black, whereas Faith's fell in winnowy waves, warm chocolate. Her palms brushed over Faith's cheek, a knuckle caressing her dainty chin, and she knew that her own face was wide and horse like by comparison. Underneath the clothes it was much the same – right down to the nipples; Faith's were a pale pink, and Cordy's a dusky brown. Even so, it was usually the smaller, younger woman who dominated their lovemaking, because Cordelia delighted to give her control, and was awed by the pleasure Faith could bring her.

But tonight was different. She smiled reassuringly at Faith, but firmly pushed her back with a palm on her chest. "Lie down," She murmured, "Let me."

Faith's chuckle was husky. "Whatever you say, baby."

Cordelia hovered over her, feeling her hair spill down around her face and shoulders, enveloping them in their own world. Teasingly, her breasts brushed against Faith’s, a knee, a hip, but Faith only smiled up at her, all self-assurance and cockiness. Cordelia lowered her head for a kiss, pressing her lips against Faith's, and before long she was trailing her wet mouth over her body. She pressed small, damp kisses to Faith's shoulders, collarbone, licking and nipping around her neck and ears. Faith grunted and breathed heavily, but seemed determined not to whine or whimper. Cordelia smirked before she bit a nipple, causing the younger girl to gasp loudly and moan.

She felt lightheaded and warm as she caressed Faith's stomach and hips with her fingers, licking the underside of a breast, leaving dark purple marks wherever she went, sucking and biting. Before long she could smell Faith's passion, and it drove her nearly mad – it was intoxicating and heady, and even though she'd never done this before, she had never wanted to do anything more than she wanted to kiss Faith in that most intimate of areas.

Cordelia dipped her tongue into Faith’s belly button, and the smaller girl bucked into her, fists clenched in the bed sheets, her face scrunched up in an expression that was almost anger. Cordelia couldn't help but glance up at Faith every other moment, noting how her brows knit, how she chewed on her lips. Even in this they were opposite – Cordelia usually moaned and whimpered her pleasure, whereas Faith almost battled it, keeping it inside, never for a moment revealing any sort of weakness.

But Cordelia was used to that. Used to the price she had to pay to be Faith's lover; no questions asked, no arguments brooked, and once in a while Faith would take her to her bed and Cordelia could forget everything, everything except Faith’s fingers in her cunt, her mouth on her nipple, oblivion so fierce and fiery it almost hurt – almost, almost. She wanted Faith to feel the same, too; she wanted to show Faith how she made her feel.

Finally, after what seemed like years, but which was probably only agonizing minutes, she kissed Faith's swollen lips, tasting her salty-sweetness in the damp curls. Her nose bumped into Faith's clit and solicited a groan, as her tongue took a long lick along her crevice. She smiled into Faith's pussy, lapping, nipping, and before long Faith broke down. Her throaty grunts made Cordelia moan, and Faith arched into her, her little noises almost sobbing, pleading.

Cordelia lifted her head, bringing her lips around Faith's clit, while her fingers toyed around Faith's hole. She slipped one fingertip in, two, only to the first knuckle, and darted them back out again, all the while swirling her tongue around Faith's little knob, biting gently, sucking furiously in turn. Faith's breaths came in heavy, ragged gasps, the sheets in a tangle around her thrashing legs, the heat pouring from her body in undulant waves. She wrapped her fingers around Cordelia's hair, knotted them, and pressed her face harder into her pussy, and though she said nothing, her actions were very clear. With a triumphant grin, Cordelia plunged three fingers into Faith’s quaking hole, pumping furiously.

She remembered the first time she ever felt another woman's vagina, how tight and warm it had been, how so very strange it was, but good, better than anything she'd ever known. She marveled at the softness, the texture, how indescribable and wonderful and perfect it felt to have your hands in somebody else's pussy, the juices sloshing around noisily, wetly, the smell and movement outrageously erotic. Cordelia loved Faith's pussy, and if it were up to her, she would have gladly spent hours exploring it, teasing it, loving it; but Faith was impatient, as she was in everything – she always wanted it hard and fast and brutal, though Cordelia longed to take her time.

Faith spasmed, her walls clenching, and Cordelia bit down hard on her clit, her fist working Faith through her orgasm swiftly. Almost as abruptly as it began, it was over – the breath sighed out of Faith in a long whoosh, and almost inaudibly, nearly silently, a name was murmured, "Buffy."

Cordelia's heart trembled in her chest, but less so than it had the first time, or the last time. She knew very well the price she had to pay to love Faith – and it was tolerance, because Faith would never love her. Not like she did Buffy. Not like Cordelia loved Faith, but she was willing to pay the price.