General Copyright / Disclaimers: Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel the syndicated series and all other characters who have appeared in both shows are the sole property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & UPN. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.
Spoilers: None really, though if you know what is happening on Buffy Season 7, it might make sense, or not.
Note: All works remain the © copyright of the original author. These may not be republished without the author's consent.
Author's Note: *gives you the look*
I knew I was in trouble the moment her eyes locked onto mine.
They always say that you only drown in blue eyes, but looking into her brown ones I knew they were wrong. The depth and light of what I was looking into made me forget to breathe, made my pulse race. I could live off of the depth and life in those eyes. Oh yeah. I was in trouble.
Easily fifty yards separated us, space filled with moving bodies, and pulsing lights. The stench of booze and smoke and sweat, even hints of sex, and yet, it all seemed to lessen as those eyes widened, and then narrowed; as I watched those perfectly carved features register my presence and her nostrils flare. After witnessing that, I was overcome with the smell of her. Maybe it was a memory scent, the type that used to come to me in the night when I would lay in my room thinking about her, remembering the sound of her laughter, or the crass jokes she would make. Remembering how easily she could tease me, when it was impossible for anyone else to, she could. She had the power to make me loose all self-confidence and at the same time feel like I was the only one who was special enough to know the real her. And I would remember touching her, and tasting her, and moaning her name, and I would smell her around me, and close my eyes tightly, breathing in the memory of her scent, knowing at the time as I lay in my bed that I would probably never know that smell again, because of what I had done.
I did it.
That phantom smell washed up my chest, danced over my upper lip and slammed into my sinuses. It was leather, and dust; sweat, lavender, earth, and smoke.
It was Faith.
The heat in the room rose ten degrees as a velvet pink tongue brushed the center of her bottom lip, and I swear to all the goddesses Willow ranted about, that my center tightened at the sight. I felt my eyes close, and my name was whispered. Sounding so low, so close, like she was right beside me. I looked, and she was still there, on the other side of the room, but her lips moved, and I heard it again, only breathed for me.
I was beside her in a heartbeat, but not touching her, not truly believing she was real. And if she wasn’t real then there would be no consequences, there would be no one to look down their nose at my behavior. There was no one to stop me from-
As I cupped her face in my hands, rose on my toes and pressed my lips softly to hers it was like the years washed away. It was only her lips, soft skin, strong muscles nipping back, pressing back. Those lips, responding as I ran my tongue along them, opening so that I could groan as she beckoned me inside with her own. Feeling her hands getting lost in my hair, trusting her as I moved with her body, walking backwards, never releasing my hold on her face, my tongue exploring every inch of her mouth. Flicking the tip of her canine tooth, and grinning as she moaned. Kissing her lips again, before moving them down her jaw, to her neck, tasting the salt. My eyes shivered, barely opening. But the light was strong. She had managed to get us to the bathroom. So many memories of this room and her. And they all faded as I was pressed roughly against the stall door.
Hands, soft; I knew they would be, but with a level of power in them, pressed my shoulders against the wall, and then danced down my arms, my sides, to cup my breasts. I thought it would feel soft, but she was rough, fingers pinching my nipples just as I registered her hands on me. A low groan echoed in the stall, and it was me, oh god was it ever me, as her hand dropped to my hip and I was pressed against her.
Raining buttons on the cement floor, the scraping of our boot soles, the lowering of a zipper, the smell of hot, wet flesh.
In seconds it happened, and I looked up from where I was on my knees, seeing her eyes, those damn gorgeous eyes, darkened in need, looking back at me from pale skin and raven hair.
My thumbs began running though her course hair, and I refused to stop looking at her. How could I? Those eyes were always my undoing. So deep, so pure, so expressive. Her hips bucked, the naked skin of her ass slapping loudly against the tiled wall, as my thumbs slipped through the liquid heat between her thighs, pressing her swollen clit.
“Oops.” I breathed, knowing she could feel it, and she opened her legs wider. Pressing my palms against her skin I raised my arms as high as I could, cupping her full breasts, watching the skin flush, watching the color climb up from her perfect breasts to her throat, her cheeks. Oddly I was always surprised when Faith moaned. It sounded like a surrender, so unlike her. So unlike me to crave it. She blinked once, and I returned it, but never removing my eyes as my tongue snaked out against her stomach, and I licked before sucking in the flesh, and biting lightly. I was glad I was holding her breasts, her knees trembled and she dropped a little lower. She groaned a plea, and I could never say no to her. I slipped my shoulder behind her knee, raised up slightly and without pretence closed my eyes as I pressed my mouth against her center hungrily.
Flicking her clit with my tongue she was only able to twitch against me. No moving with any rhythm, no pumping. She was twitching and gasping and it was all that she could do, I had her completely. Her clit in my mouth, sucking it, flicking it. I lowered my tongue, running it along her swollen inner folds, swallowing the wetness I found. My groans were real. I loved drinking her in, taking a part of her inside of me. My hands left her breasts, and were there, holding her lips apart, as my tongue dipped deep inside of her, moving my head, thrusting inside, taking her, fucking her with my tongue. And she was moaning now, a constant sound. A Slayer close to release is a keening like no other imaginable. Looking up I saw that she had taken over and was pulling on her nipples, twisting them. She always liked it a little rough. With a hungry slurp I moved my tongue lower, feeling her thighs stiffen and I flicked the tip of my tongue. I moved back up, and circled her clit with my tongue and then kissed it with my lips, as I slid into her just one finger. I knew she was close, and she would soon say,
“More… I need more.”
I smiled against her center, slipping in two more, quickly, making it three as I began to rock my fingers into her, and moved to suck roughly on the part of her that was so hard, and so wet and begging for it, and she was clutching my fingers, her insides pulling at me, the sounds of her moans, the wet slapping of her ass, the slurping of my mouth, the wet music as I moved deeper into her all became a symphony crashing down around us, and I moaned loudly as I felt her come, felt all of her muscles, her legs, her insides, all of it twitch and dance because of me.
Flicking my eyes up she was looking at me, her mouth open, her eyes so very dark, and I knew I was in trouble.
Even for a Slayer she moved fast, and I was impaled on her two fingers. Thank god I was wearing a skirt.
I was already so close. Being honest, I was close the moment I saw those eyes across the room. But this? Feeling her left hand cupping my ass, as her right hand plunged fingers rhythmically into me, as my legs were wrapped around her naked waist, as my hands where on her shoulders holding myself up, as my eyes looked into hers, I felt my walls clutching at her harder, I felt the quivering sigh come from my lips, I felt my hips shamelessly thrusting against her hand and her body and I came. In thirty seconds flat. That was my Faith. She always knew exactly how to get me off, fast, in the bathroom of the Bronze.
I lowered my lips to hers, groaning as she took her fingers from inside of me, and bent slightly. My feet were now on the ground, but I was still lost in a dizzy haze of Faith. Her kisses back turned from hungry, wet and deadly into soft, languid warmth. Faith’s lips were coming home. I sighed, stepped back, and licked the taste of her on my lips again.
“When did you get back?” I asked.
“About 30 minutes ago.”
“And your first stop was the Bronze huh?” I watched as she bent to pull up her jeans, then straightened her shirt. Reality was coming back around, I could feel it closing in on me.
“Actually.” She laughed and it made my breath stop again. “I came in to use the bathroom, I was on my way to find you. Red said you patrol around here this time of night.”
“You ready to tell me what’s be going on?” She asked, raising her brow at me.
“Can you forgive me?” I asked, and now I couldn’t look into those eyes. So much time wasted, so many times I wanted to say something to take back what I had done, what I have said.
I felt her fingers on my chin, raising my vision up.
I get lost in her brown eyes with one look. How can you not?
“For the quickie? Sure. You can make it up to me later.” She smirked.
And I knew I was in trouble.