The first time it happens, Faith writes it off as post-slaying adrenaline: it's spring, they're young, they've just killed a bunch of vamps right out of the grave. It's the first time they're back together since Sunnydale, and Faith decides to indulge in a little want, take, have. She yanks Buffy close and plants one on her, all spit and tongue, expecting to get decked for the presumption (maybe wanting to get decked, but Faith doesn't like to think about that, and why she still feels a need for Buffy to punish her), but Buffy kisses her right back, all teeth and cherry lip gloss and hot breath that tastes like fruity gum.
Faith shoves her hands up under Buffy's tank top, rubs at her hard, tight nipples until she moans into Faith's mouth. Buffy's hands close tight on Faith's hips, nails breaking skin and digging into flesh, and the pinpricks of pain sizzle down Faith's nerves like sparks on a live wire. She gives a whole body shiver and then sweeps Buffy's feet out from under her. They tumble to the ground, still gasping and pawing and kissing, but of course, Buffy won't let her be on top. They roll through the fresh dirt and the grass, the smell of open graves filling Faith's nose, but she's had years to get used to it, to let it fade while she concentrates on everything else.
Buffy is small but strong, and once she gets them situated--her thigh pushing up against Faith's crotch while she grinds down against Faith's thigh--they're off to the races. Buffy's not gentle, but she doesn't have to be, not with Faith. They bruise and mark each other, knowing it will all be faded, gone in the morning like it never happened. This will just be one more secret between them that no one else will share.
Faith comes with a low moan, always quick on the trigger after a kill, hot pulse of pleasure making everything--the graveyard, the dirt in her hair, the way Buffy won't actually look at her--disappear. She lies there, breath misting in chilly early spring air, and watches through her lashes as Buffy comes, her head thrown back, her blonde hair a bright flag in the darkness, and her kiss-bitten mouth forming a small, surprised O.
Faith gives her a minute or two, and then shoves her off before she can jump up and pretend it didn't happen. Buffy gives her a tight look that might be hurt or disappointment, but is probably just a trick of the moonlight. She's sure she's living down to Buffy's expectations right now.
"Thanks for the--" Buffy waves a hand, and even though she knows Buffy means the slaying, not the dry-humping, Faith blinks in surprise.
"Yeah, B, any time." Faith leers at her. "You know how to find me." She takes off before Buffy can say anything else. It's better that way.
The second time, they're out dancing for Dawn's birthday. It's not the Bronze, but it's close enough, music loud and lights strobing, and Buffy gets all up in Faith's personal space bubble, her breath scented with salt, fruit, and tequila and her tongue blue from the frozen margaritas she's been drinking. Faith leans in, licks the blue off her tongue. Buffy jerks back, her gaze darting to where Dawn and Xander are hanging out by the bar.
Faith eases off, rolling her eyes and pretending it doesn't sting. "Come on, " she says, "they don't have to know."
With that, Buffy follows her out the back door, into the parking lot, her fingers hooked in the beltloop of Faith's jeans. Faith finds a likely-looking car and opens it up, shoving Buffy into the backseat before she can say anything.
Faith has had a lot of sex in the backseats of cars; she knows how to keep her movements small and tight and still get the most enjoyment out of it. She licks her way into Buffy's willing mouth, hands already working to shove down the straps of Buffy's tank top and bra so she can get her mouth on Buffy's tits this time. Buffy arches up against her, moaning, when Faith uses her teeth on the pert pink nipples. Buffy's figured out what to do with her hands this time, too; she's got Faith's jeans unzipped and her fingers curling up into the heat of Faith's cunt quicker and more eagerly than Faith would have ever expected.
It throws her off for a few seconds and she has to scramble to catch up. Buffy's wearing a skirt, so it's easy enough to get a hand up underneath, push aside the wet crotch of her lacy panties and finger her clit. With the doors and windows closed, they can't hear the heavy bass pulse of the club, but Faith feels it in her blood, in the stroke of Buffy's fingers inside her, the rhythm of her cunt clenching around them, hard and needy until she comes. Buffy grins up at her, smug and challenging, and Faith kisses that smile off her face. She shifts down, puts her mouth to work with her fingers until Buffy is pushing up against her, moaning and shaking, her hands pulling at Faith's hair in desperation. She comes with a hard snap of her hips, warm and slick on Faith's mouth and chin. Now it's Faith's turn to grin triumphantly.
Buffy ruins it, of course. She starts straightening her clothes and sending worried looks at the club. "Dawn's probably wondering where I am."
"Yeah," Faith says, letting her up and out of the car.
"Thanks for coming," Buffy says with a straight face, and Faith doesn't bite back her snicker, watches the flush climb Buffy's cheeks and enjoys her awkwardness. She covers it quickly, though. "I know Dawn appreciates it."
"She's a good kid," Faith answers, and that's true, at least.
"Yeah." Buffy half-turns and jerks her head at the club. "I'm gonna--"
"Yeah, okay. See you around, B." Faith watches her go back inside, then heads to her bike. She doesn't know why she expected anything else, but Buffy's always inspired hope in her one second and snuffed it out the next, and even though Faith knows better by now, she falls for it just the same. She shakes her head and tells herself no more, but she knows it's a lie.
Faith thinks it's a little freakish that they're all so blasé about another apocalypse, but people can get used to anything, and they've been doing this a long time now. She has a place here, if she wants it, and it feels good to be around people who know her, who understand, even if sometimes it feels like they're still holding her past against her. She can't blame them for that, since sometimes, she's still holding it against herself, despite Angel's advice.
When this battle's done, another win in B's column and the world will have a tomorrow to wake up to, never knowing how close they came to dying in a rain of fire, Faith washes off the gore and the ash and tries to decide if she wants to join Giles and Xander and Andrew at the bar, or if that's a recipe for disaster. Given that Andrew's involved, it'll probably be a disaster.
The door to her room opens and Buffy's standing there.
"Hi," she says. She holds up a bottle and a pair of shot glasses. "I thought we could celebrate?" Faith can hear the doubt in her voice and it surprises her, because Buffy seems so sure these days, like all the hesitation has been burned out of her.
"Yeah," Faith says. "Just let me finish getting dressed."
"No need for that. I told everyone else to go on without us." Buffy thumps the bottle of Blackhaus and the glasses onto the dresser, then presses herself up against Faith's half-naked, still damp from the shower body, and licks her way into Faith's mouth. Faith can taste the sweetness of blackberry schnapps on her tongue, can feel her uncertainty in the rapid beat of her heart. She pulls back when Faith doesn't respond immediately, hurt and confusion easily readable on her face. "Faith? You with me?"
"Yeah," Faith says, curling her trembling hands around the flare of Buffy's hips and pushing a thigh between Buffy's legs. "I am."