Five Times Buffy and Faith Never Kissed
(And One Time They Did)
Notes: Hmm, well my first Buffy fiction, so YAY. This is also the first time I've written in second person, so hopefully it's not horrible. There are song titles at the beginning of each part and they all sort of inspired the part they title.
Timeline: Season 3ish, but no evil Faith and no Angel around to fuck it all up. So I guess it's AU…shrugs
Feedback: Good reviews make my day, but if you hate this, you can tell me I fail at life if you wish. But seriously, I promise my first born to the first person that gives me good feedback.
Disclaimer: The number of times Buffy and Faith fail to screw like bunnies during BtVS should tell you I own nothing.
Listen to the Music
-say it right-
The first time it happens you're at the Bronze. Faith is making you burn up. Even if it's already an impossibly hot summer night and there are more that two hundred people crowding onto the dance floor with you, it might as well only be her. She's the only one who makes you feel this kind of heat.
You watch as she moves with her eyes closed, her movements wild and completely instinctual. It's hypnotizing. Your fingers are intertwined with hers and your bodies are just touching as you move in perfect sync. You try not to gasp when she presses her body flush to yours, amazed you don't fall out of time with the music once. Her forehead is resting against yours, her impossibly dark eyes staring into the depths of your eyes in a silent challenge. A test to see how far she can push you.
Your lips sting with need, and when she leans in closer, your heart nearly pounds out of your chest. But you call her bluff and stand your ground. You don't move away. She stops. You're aching for more. But then she just leans up and nips the end of your nose and affectionately touches your cheek. You feel her breath against your ear, asking in a husky voice if you want something from the bar. You swallow hard and shake your head no. Why does it feel like you lost the game? She pulls back, giving you a smirk and a wink, and then she's gone, pushing her way to the bar, leaving you feeling cold and quite alone on the dance floor.
The second time it happens, you are sitting on your couch and it's a girl's movie night. Willow and your mom are in the kitchen making the popcorn, and Faith is sitting next to you, recounting yet another wildly inappropriate tale of her life before Sunnydale involving two of her favorite subjects: sex and food.
You aren't really listening, though. Not that you never listen to her or anything, but it's just that her lips have always sort of fascinated you. So you're staring at them as her mouth moves up and down, hearing the words coming from them, but unable to string them together in your mind so that they make sense. Instead, you find yourself wondering how they taste and if they are as soft as they look. Your eyes fall a little, and then you're staring at the perfect, sun-kissed skin of her neck because that has always sort of fascinated you also. You have the sudden urge to brush your fingers along her angular collarbones, dip them into the hollow of her throat and trace them along the firmness of her shoulders. You want to feel her goose bumps rise and shivers beneath your fingers.
And then you are staring a little lower, because whether you acknowledge it or not, her breasts have always sort of fascinated you as well. So much so that you don't even notice she has stopped speaking until several seconds later.
You look up, already aware you have been caught checking her out, and heat rushes to your cheeks. She arches an eyebrow and grins.
"See somethin' you like, B?" Her bare knee touches yours, and the pit of your stomach feels warm and tingly.
"I...Uh, I-I don't…" Her palm grazes your thigh and you can't breathe anymore. She leans forward and tilts her head to one side. You can't seem to move away, or even forward for that matter. Her eyes slip closed and her breath tickles your lips. You feel your own eyes close, and your shoulders relax.
Your eyes snap open and you shoot away from Faith like you've been burned (you think you may have been) and you're not really sure whether to hug or kick Willow for interrupting.
The third time it happens you are in the library sparring with Faith. You think she looks so viscously beautiful when she fights. This is where she's the most free, where she drops the façade and lets go of everything. This is where you finally see Faith in all of her raw vulnerability she rarely lets you glimpse anywhere else.
The sheer intensity of the emotions as they rush through her eyes is almost enough to make your knees weak; anger, elation, lust, misery, need, and things you can't even name race in an erratic pattern across her features as you punch, kick, block and dodge your way across the room.
You love training with her. You're allowed to touch her here. Even if it is only fighting, it's still something. It hurts so good.
You've been going a good hour with no breaks and a thin sheen of sweat has built up on the surface of your skin. You are both tiring, getting more reckless and fierce in your movements, each of you trying to gain the upper hand. You sock her hard in the ribs and feel them crunch beneath your fist. She lets out an animalistic grunt and lands a punch so hard on your shoulder that her knuckles crack. It momentarily stuns you, and the look of predatory triumph that flashes through her eyes when she spots the gap in your defenses actually makes you wet. She throws a brutal right hook into your jaw and it sends you both off balance and tumbling to the floor.
She's now straddling your hips and her hands are on you shoulders, pinning you to the floor. You are breathing hard in unison with her and your eyes fall on the steady rise and fall of her chest. Your gaze then drops to the exposed skin of her rigid stomach. It moves in and out with her breath, tightening and loosening. Faith shifts her position above you, rocking her hips forward slowly and creating the most delightful friction between you. You bite your lip and suppress a moan.
Before you can stop yourself, your fingers are skimming the surface of the taut skin, gently digging your nails in to feel the hard abdominal muscle beneath. You both breathe a little harder. You feel the tickle of her soft hair on your cheeks and you look up to find her eyes glazed over and her face just centimeters from yours. Her hand cups your face, and she lazily grazes your cheekbone with her thumb as she waits for your move. You start to bring your hands around her neck when you remember where you are. Who you're with.
You are lying on the floor of the school library, with Faith sitting astride your hips and just a breath away from her lips. You can't be here like this. With Faith. No matter how much you want it. You can't.
So you panic. You thrust your knee hard into her ribs and then you are across the library in a heartbeat, pushing open the double doors and rushing down the hall before Faith can even pick herself up from the floor. You only stop running when you've run out of breath several blocks away from the school. You lean against a tree, closing your eyes and hugging yourself, praying that you will be able to stop shaking.
-three simple words-
The fourth time it happens you're in her apartment and you're livid. White, hot fury is racing through your veins as you scream at Faith, whose lips curl into a sneer. You are spitting the most hurtful, venomous things you can think of, but she just laughs in your face and gives it right back to you just as good. You are so mad it makes you dizzy.
She found your weakness tonight.
You love her. And she called you on it.
But of course you denied it, things got nasty, and now you are yelling at the top of your lungs, ready to strangle her.
You cannot love her. That's the real reason you're seeing red. You have always treasured your control. Craved it. Needed it. But Faith sent your life into a tailspin of confusing feelings and urges the moment she waltzed into the Bronze all those months ago. She made you lose control. You hate her for it. Or you would, if you didn't already love her.
She shoves you hard into the white wash wall and presses her body into yours. The angry heat from her skin makes you shiver as she pins your wrists above your head. Her pupils have nearly swallowed up the chocolate brown color so that her eyes are almost black with rage.
"Get the fuck off of me." You growl and struggle in her grasp. She laughs at you.
"You know you want this, B. You've wanted this since the very beginning." She hisses in your ear before digging her teeth into your collarbone and sucking at the skin. You whimper. Her scent fills your nostrils and you can feel her everywhere on your body. She's under your skin. She's everywhere. Your stinging eyes slide closed as you try to stop hot tears from falling. You can't take this much longer. You tug half-heartedly at her grasp and she laughs again, her tongue dipping into the hollow of your throat.
"You know you want me." She whispers. You go limp in her arms as the tears start falling, because she's right. You do want her. You want her so badly. It hurts so much, needing her of all people. She is all about 'getting some and getting gone' and that's all you will be to her. She won't be there in the morning. You cry harder.
A tear drops onto her shoulder and she stops, pulling back to look at you. She freezes, the anger in her eyes quickly replaced with alarm. She loosens her grip and you let your wrists fall back to your sides.
"Shit, B…I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… God, I'm such a fuck-up. I'm so sorry. I…I should leave. I just…God, I have to get out of here." She steps back and you slide slowly to the floor, shaking your head and desperately trying to tell her stop, to stay with you. You open your mouth but just end up crying harder. She's already out the door.
The fifth time it happens you find her at the Bronze, in the furthest, darkest corner drowning herself in a bottle of amber colored Jack. It's dark in here, but not dark enough to hide red and swollen eyes.
You slip your hand into hers and tell her to talk to you. She just pulls out of your grasp turns away so that you will miss any stray tears she can't keep in check. You don't know what to do with a crying Faith and she just won't talk to you. So you do the only logical thing for a friend to do in this kind of situation. You slap a ten onto the counter and get drunk with her.
Several drinks later you both are stumbling down Revello Drive, both of you giggling like schoolgirls. But Faith is much drunker than you are, and she ends up tripping over the curb and falling flat on her face. You nearly choke to death on your laughter as she rolls over and looks up at you with a look of confusion.
"Hey, B…How'd I get all the way down here when you're way up there?" She slurs, her eyebrows knitted together. You stop laughing, smile fading as you look down at her. Something about her words tugs at your heart.
"I dunno, Faith. Doesn't seem quite fair, does it? C'mon, we should get you inside. My mom won't be home tonight." You say and gently pick her up and cradling her in your arms.
"Mm 'k, B. Hey, you have such pretty hair…you know that? You have really pretty hair…" She says as she inspects a lock of golden hair that she's curled around her finger. "That little girl from tonight…She had hair like yours. She looked a lot like you, B. She was so young, B. Too young. Too small…" She suddenly looks miserable.
"What girl, Faith?" You ask with a sneaking suspicion this girl had something to do with Faith's earlier tears. But she just shakes her head and buries her it in the crook of your neck
Once inside you stand her up at the bottom of the stairs and go to lock the door when you hear a muffled thud. You glance back to find her sitting on the bottom step, crying again. She gazes up at you, tears dropping freely and you just stare, the alcohol slowing your ability to react. But an instant later you're at her side, arms around her and kissing her cheeks as each tear runs down because this is the only type of comfort that made any sense to your drunken mind.
She's telling you that tonight she went slaying. She's telling you there was a vampire and there was the little girl who looked like you. She's swearing over and over she only saw one vamp. She cries harder. Your lips taste like her tears.
She tells you she was wrong. There were two vampires. And a little girl who should not have been alone in a cemetery at night. She tells you she was reckless and cocky and took her time staking the one vampire she saw. She tells you by the time she even sensed the second one, the little girl had been half drained and the vampire was already over the fence. She tells you that the little girl who was just too young and too small died in her arms tonight. She tells you it's all her fault. She tells you everything is her fault.
You shake your head no and kiss her cheek, and then her other one. You tell her that it's not her fault and kiss her forehead and pull her tighter. You tell her she couldn't have known and you kiss her chin and then her nose. You are so drunk.
And then your hands are around her neck and your foreheads are pushed together, and you nudge her nose with your own. But she pulls away and shakes her head.
"No." She says.
"No, B. You…You're…You're special." She slurs, trying to make you understand. You laugh a little.
"Gee, thanks, Faith. I'm glad you think I'm 'special'."
"No! Not that kind of special. I mean, I just…I want it to mean something, okay?"
"Okay." You say. Faith lies down, stretching her legs across the length of the step and rests her head in your lap.
You fall asleep like that, at the bottom of the staircase, stroking Faith's velvet hair.
-two weeks in hawaii-
When it finally does happen, it's not how you thought it would be. You've always imagined your first kiss with her against the rough surface of a crypt or maybe in the dark alley behind the Bronze, full of pent up sexual tension, raw angst, and just a hint of anger. It would be sharp teeth tugging at lips and nails raking up bare skin. It would be dirty, hot and the most satisfying kind of wrong.
Instead, you sitting on your bed with her, eating strawberry ice cream and it's three in the morning. You both have had way too much sugar, and you're desperately trying to keep your voices down, because your mom is this close to tossing you both out on your asses. And you are telling her this really funny story and she's smiling widely with her adorable dimples. And then she's closer and you can count every tiny mark in the light spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose and then, right in the middle of what you are saying, she kisses you.
It's soft and innocent, and somehow the ice cream tastes ten times better on her lips. It has taken you completely by surprise, but it's better than anything you've ever imagined and everything you've been waiting for.
She gently pulls away and looks at the bed, vulnerability shining in her eyes, her hands playing with the ends of your hair
"I'm not going to leave you, okay? I want this to be different…You make me want to stick around, B, y'know? You make me want to stick around forever."
Her voice is unsteady and she finally looks up to see if you understand the full meaning of her words. You think you get the message loud and clear. You smile and kiss the tip of her nose before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pushing your lips against hers once again.