Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Buffy and Faith even though I
think they would look complement my circle of friends greatly. The song is
Can’t Not by Alanis Morissette off her Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie
Author’s Notes: I was a HUGE fan of Alanis’s Jagged Little Pill album. I was going through my angsty feminist phase. The second album was both myself and her getting over it. The lyrics are in brackets.
Feedback: I love music, I love writing, I thought I’d try combining them. Tell me what you think or else I’ll just keep asking….
Faith rolled over and peeled herself out of the sweat-soaked sheets that covered her body, leaving an imprint of her back on the discoloured material. She stood naked at the side of the bed, letting the warm night air caress her skin and inhaling the unmistakable scent of sex that clung to every object in the room. (I’d be lying if I said I was completely unscathed) It was three hours ago that she had climbed in through the window of Buffy’s room, caked in sweat, dust and blood and looking for the release that she knew no one else was able to provide. Buffy had been asleep with a look of pure innocence on her face, that dissipated as soon as Faith attacked her mouth with a hot and anxious tongue. There had been many a time that Faith entered Buffy’s room in a similar manner, but their love-making had been slow and tender, something that Faith still had difficulty adjusting to. She had tried to explain to her lover, on numerous occasions, that she needed, for a lack of a better phrase, to be fucked. Totally, wholly and without reservations. Equally, Buffy had a problem with this approach to their time together, but that all changed as soon as Faith’s hands had found their way to Buffy’s drawstring pants and torn them off the blonde. They had devoured each other in every aspect applicable to humans. Body, mind, soul and heart had all merged into one final climactic act as Faith threw her head back, bit her lip and broke the bedside table as Buffy’s fingers brought her over the edge.
They released each other over and over again, until it appeared that their bodies would no longer react to tactile sensations. Only then did Buffy lay her head down on her crumpled pillow, while Faith rested on her side and watched her sleep. The strangest aspect of their little arrangement was that the Slayers never spoke to each other. The only time one of them communicated to the other was to gesture, urge on or moan with pleasure. (I might be proving you right with my silence or my retaliation) While Faith’s ‘get some, get gone’ principle had served her well in the past, she had no desire to leave the place which she currently inhabited. She had a warm bed, a warm body and the satisfaction of knowing that the blonde, who lay next to her, had no idea how to handle her. (Would I be letting you win in my non-reaction?) Faith preferred to keep everyone, including Buffy, at arm’s length. She didn’t know if it was her own individual defence mechanism or a genetic trait. (How would I explain? How would I explain this to my children if I had them?) Not that she wanted to think about it. All she could bring herself to think about was the intensity of the orgasm she had just experienced. Nothing else infiltrated the inner walls of Faith’s conscience. She could not be bothered to try and make other people understand her. It was a waste of fucking time, effort and good sex. (Because I can’t not, because I can’t not, because I can’t afford to be misread one more time)
Faith strolled over to the open window and leaned out, lighting a smoke and blowing the white stream out into the night. The blonde on the bed stirred slightly as the smell of lighter fluid and smoke permeated the sensitive olfactory nerves in her button-shaped nose, but she did not wake. Faith glanced over to where Buffy’s bare form glistened under the light of the moon and pangs of need shot through her. (Would I be whining if I said I needed a hug?) Faith gritted her teeth and mentally berated herself for allowing the thought to creep into her mind. It was not so much her lack of concern that angered her, but her inability to give Buffy what she was certain she needed. Then again, Faith would never have her fill of Buffy. Everything that she gave her, no matter how big or small, would never be enough to satisfy Faith’s desire for her. (Would you feel slighted if I said your love’s not enough?) Faith laughed bitterly, taking into consideration that she was the one who found her way into Buffy’s bedroom every night. (How can I complain? How can I complain when I’m the one who reaches for it?)
Faith spotted movement with her peripheral vision and the façade she fought so hard to keep, was only kept in check by a constant repetition of her mantra. Then the blonde rolled over, and Faith was lost in the sight of her taut body encased in their pheromone-laden sheets. (Because I can’t not, because I can’t not, because I cannot walk without my crutches) Buffy was her drug. A beautiful blonde drug who matched her every step of the way – in training, in fighting, in bantering and in screwing. She pretended that their sessions of primal lust did not have an effect on her emotionally, and she seemed to be succeeding. The problem with this was that, in the back of her mind, a question constantly niggled her. (Because I can’t not, because I can’t not, because I can’t help wonder why you asked me)
Faith’s mind drifted back to a discussion they had had one day during a training session. She had smirked when Buffy admitted that she felt honoured to have been chosen as the protector of the universe. Faith saw it as a burden that she could have done without. They differed on everything else, so their failure to meet on this point was hardly a surprise. (To all the unheard wisdom in the schoolyard, you think you’re the right ones, you think you’re the charmed ones I’m sure) Again, it came as no surprise that their viewpoints affected their approach to life, and slaying as a whole. Buffy fought to live another day, to save the life of one more innocent, while Faith fought for the sheer thrill of it. She waited for the adrenaline to give her the boost she needed, felt the Slayer blood pulsate through her veins, and attacked with everything she possessed. Faith saw Buffy’s point. She thought it was the height of martyrdom. Buffy saw Faith’s point. She thought it was the height of hedonism. (How can you go on with such conviction? And who do you think you are to question me?)
Faith took one last drag of her cigarette before flinging it out of the window and reaching to light another one. A hand on her hip stopped her, taking the lighter out of her hand and flipping it open and closed. The smell of gas burst into the air and Buffy replaced the lighter on the table. She ran her hands over the six blocks that defined Faith’s abdomen, paying special attention to the thick scar that cut across her side. Faith released a small sigh and a flash of memory took her back to the day Buffy had given her the scar that she so tenderly caressed. It was only a flash, therefore, dissolved just as quickly as it had appeared. There was a time when Faith would have pinned Buffy to the ground and beaten her to a bloody pulp, but those feelings of anger had been replaced by a much more powerful one: lust. No one understood that but them. The Slayers were purely primal with each other. They were equals with an insatiable thirst for pleasure and they would not be denied. (Because we can’t not, because we can’t not, because we can’t help laugh at underestimations)
There was one thing that they agreed on. They belonged together. It was no small feat of coincidence that Faith had been the Slayer called after Kendra died. She was Buffy’s polar opposite and the blonde was meant to battle her in every way possible. (Because we can’t not, because we can’t not) They had tried it verbally, which inevitably resulted in a tie, emotionally, which Faith lost in spades, and now physically, where the battle never reached a conclusion. Even now, as Buffy’s hands made their way down to Faith’s throbbing centre, what was evident in both of them was their determination never to be fucked with again. By each other, or by anyone else. The life of a Slayer was short and neither Buffy, nor Faith, could be bothered with mind games anymore. (Because we can’t afford to be misled one more time) They had reached a point in their lives, where they were no longer living as two people, but as a single entity. Although they would never see eye to eye on anything pertaining to their world views on slaying, they were inextricably bound to each other, and they liked it. It wouldn’t have worked otherwise. (Because we cannot help without your willingness)
Faith inhaled sharply as Buffy’s slender fingers slipped in between her soft folds of flesh, stroking gently as she once again familiarised herself with Faith’s body. Faith could feel Buffy’s head resting against her back and she revelled in the sensations that the blonde caused in her body. (Why do you affect me? Why do you affect me still?) Buffy planted kisses on Faith’s upper body and licked the light perspiration that was beginning to gather there. Faith’s hips thrust into Buffy’s hand and she grabbed the blonde around the waist, trying to find something solid to hold onto. Buffy increased the pace of her strokes and slowed the rhythm, causing Faith to moan softly in response. (Why do you hinder me? Why do you hinder me still?) Faith’s breathing increased until Buffy could hear each ragged breath being inhaled, at which point she stopped and withdrew her fingers from Faith. The brunette turned to face Buffy and focussed her gaze on the fingers that had just been inside her, examining the slick texture that now covered them, and invading Buffy’s personal space. Faith pushed a strand of dark hair out of her face and licked her lips, causing the muscles inside Buffy to automatically contract. Buffy lost her composure for a second as Faith pressed her body against hers, feeling Faith’s heart beating, as well as the incredible heat that was emanating from her skin. (Why do you unnerve me? Why do you unnerve me still?) Faith caught Buffy’s bottom lip with her teeth and tugged on it gently, placing a hand in the small of Buffy’s back and guiding her to the bed.
They tumbled onto the bed, fighting for domination. Buffy was quick, but Faith’s sheer determination won through as she straddled the blonde and brushed her hand over the glistening patch of curls at Buffy’s crotch. Faith was in no mood to play, and she pinned Buffy’s arms above her head, licking her way down the blonde’s body until she could almost taste the heat radiating off her lover. She locked eyes with Buffy, her velvet ones staring into the murky greens, and dipped her tongue into the sweet folds of flesh beneath her. Buffy gasped and her body lashed out in abundant pleasure. Faith was concentrating solely on having the power. While it was obvious who was controlling this session, it was less clear who held the overall power. In reality, neither girl did. (Why do you trigger me? Why do you trigger me still?) The overriding force was a mixture of lust and instinct, controlling each girl to focus on her own pleasure. As Buffy’s body began to buck against Faith’s probing tongue, their thoughts transpired and made their way over to each other, and both Slayers smiled in silent victory. What they were unaware of, was that the emotion of love had yet to make an appearance, and it was one that they would ultimately, fall prey to.