This Is How It Goes

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," Faith was repeating in a breathless mantra. "God, Buffy. Fuck."

Buffy would have smiled at the expletives if her mouth wasn't occupied. She moved her tongue in wide, thorough circles, alternating between strokes and light flicking, while her fingers pushed slowly inside, thrusting deeper each time. Faith's legs were shuddering, her walls pulsing around Buffy's fingers, her hips banging into the door as they surged with Buffy's mouth. Buffy felt powerful, reckless, vibrant, and utterly intertwined with Faith. Her pleasure was Faith's, and every moan and gasping "fuck" fed the heat in her belly and between her legs.

Faith suddenly went silent, her obscene mantra cut off as Buffy felt her body go rigid, all of her muscles tensing. Buffy pressed her tongue as hard as she could against Faith's clit, driving into her and curling up inside her, and felt Faith's walls clench violently around her. Faith's hips and legs convulsed, her hands tangled pleasurably in Buffy's hair, and she came with a shattered cry.

Buffy stayed buried inside her, mouth on her, held her as Faith's orgasm tore through her and her body shuddered ferociously. She slumped after several moments, and Buffy, still holding her, stood up and saw Faith open her eyes. Buffy ran her thumb gently along Faith's cheekbone, leaned in and kissed her slowly, languorously, as Faith held on weakly.

She drew back and found Faith wearing a peculiar expression. She looked ... lost. Her face was full of uncertainty, shining eyes narrowing in confusion as they met Buffy's. Buffy furrowed her brow, opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but found Faith's insistent mouth on hers before she could speak. Her train of thought was abruptly derailed as Faith's tongue traced her bottom lip and then slid in, twisting against hers.

Faith walked them both backwards, not breaking the kiss. Buffy could feel Faith's naked chest and groin pressing into her, slight wetness and heat reaching her even through her clothes, and she shuddered with it. Faith's hands were resting on the thin strip of bare skin between Buffy's skirt and top, drawing light, scalding circles with her thumb. Buffy felt the back of her knees hit the bed unexpectedly and almost fell, releasing an undignified squeak, but Faith's arms suddenly encircled her, holding her tightly. There was a moment where they simply looked at each other, reading lust and emotion and need in each other's eyes. Then Faith moved her hands to the bottom of Buffy's shirt and began sliding it up languidly, palms hot and blazing in its wake.

Buffy lifted her arms as her shirt slid over her bra, Faith's hands caressing her breasts in an excruciatingly slow movement. Buffy's knees almost buckled, a whimpering moan leaving her mouth. Her entire body was pulsing, throbbing under Faith's hands. There was a fire in her gut, between her thighs, flaring on her skin wherever Faith's fingers grazed. Her nipples were painfully hard, her legs shaking. She watched Faith touch her, look at her with tenderness and desire, and couldn't stop shivering.

Faith began removing Buffy's clothing, one piece at a time, unhurriedly, sensuously dragging them along her skin. Faith looked like she was performing some complicated math problem, her brow furrowed, her throat working, teeth pushing against her bottom lip. She was going so slowly, so gently, so infuriatingly softly. Buffy was savoring it and simultaneously going insane with it, needing more pressure, more friction while relishing the tenderness in Faith's hands. Shirt, bra, and skirt flung unceremoniously away, until she was standing uncertainly in her underwear.

Faith suddenly dropped to her knees, as Buffy had done just minutes ago, and leaned forward and kissed Buffy's stomach. Buffy let out a strangled sigh, hands clenching uncertainly. Faith dragged her tongue down, leaving a trail down Buffy's stomach, and reached the elastic of her panties. And then she took the top of Buffy's underwear between her teeth and dragged them down. Buffy stared down at her in sexually-overloaded shock, wondering vaguely how the fuck she just did that, and feeling an impossibly warm gush between her legs. Faith's mouth removed her panties, warm breath ghosting over swollen folds, and Buffy suddenly couldn't stand anymore. She sat down hard on the bed.

Faith glanced up at her, unsurprised at her sudden posture change. Her lips curled in that gentle, arrogant smirk, the first time tonight, and Buffy's heart fluttered with it. Faith dropped Buffy's panties on the floor in a nonchalant pile and stood up, and Buffy realized that they were both entirely and unabashedly naked. For the first time. She felt a sudden urge to cover herself, and crushed it down savagely. This wasn't about that. Feeling a surge of boldness, Buffy slid herself back on the bed, lying down fully in front of Faith and letting her legs fall casually, not making any effort to close them.

Faith let out her breath between her teeth, eyes glinting. Hands pressing on the bed, she moved to Buffy, hovering over her, hair falling around her face in a soft curtain. Everything else had ceased to exist for Buffy. She was mesmerized by the soft glint of Faith's eyes, of the fluid way she moved, of the heat swirling between them.

Faith bit her lip, meeting Buffy's gaze, hesitating a moment in anticipation, and then lowered her body between Buffy's legs. They both moaned, loudly and unrestrained, with the contact of bodies, the delicious pressing together of breasts, bare stomachs, hips, groins. Faith rolled her hips forward, in one slow, undulating motion, and ripped a guttural groan from Buffy.

"Faith," Buffy gasped, and moved her hands to Faith's back, pressing into her.

Faith settled into her, stilling her hips, and Buffy made an incredulous noise. Faith's fingers were tracing her breasts, brushing softly under their curves, circling her nipple. They moved to her sides, gliding over curves, hard muscles and bone, sweeping over her stomach. Faith caressed her everywhere, leaving streaks of heat and electricity and an insufferable throbbing between her legs. Buffy was gasping, fingers digging into Faith's back, head thrown back. Faith's fingers moved down, down, sliding over hip bones and then ... moved back up again. Buffy clenched her teeth and looked at the other Slayer.

"Faith?" she asked softly, questioningly. "What ..." her voice trailed off, not entirely sure what she was asking.

Faith didn't answer her for a moment and then raised her head. "Just ... let me do this, B," Faith said in a soft voice, looking at her with huge, bright eyes.

Buffy looked back at her, frowning in utter confusion before realizing something. She understood completely. Faith was right. They had never done this. Even in the cemetery, buried so far in each other Buffy didn't know whose fingers were where, they had never approached this level of vulnerability, this level of metaphorical and literal nudity. What they were doing now — it was open and exposing and almost terrifyingly uncomplicated. This was about emotion. Lust was simply a consequence. An effect, not the cause. Faith, with trembling, uncertain fingertips and eyes soft with tenderness, was telling her as much.

This was something completely new for Faith. Sex hadn't ever been about emotional connection for Faith — her experiences revolved around quick, nameless fucks. It was a mean to an ends. It was just another way for her to get what she wanted. It was hard and fast and ungentle, about pure possession and dominance. What was going on right now, was something as undiscovered to Faith as German philosophy was to Buffy.

So Buffy understood. She lay back, took Faith's head in her hands and kissed her gently, telling her it was okay. She pulsed under the slow, exploratory progression of Faith's hands and mouth, teeth and tongue eventually replacing fingertips, and savored it. Savored the anticipation, the delay, the gentleness. And when Faith finally slid into wet folds, it was the sweetest thing she had ever felt. Faith started slowly, pushing into her with long, drawn-out strokes. They rocked against each other, a rhythm in Faith's hands and Buffy's breathing. They rolled forward and back like ebbing waves, slowly building up that fire in the pit of Buffy's stomach. Faith pushed in and out of her until she was a shuddering, gasping mess, until she was clenching around the brunette's fingers like she never wanted her to leave.

Buffy's hips surged with the motions of Faith's hand, her back arched, fingernails digging sharply into Faith's back. Her legs were wrapped around Faith, quivering as Faith's hips pressed into her with every thrust, heaving with her. Their bodies were slick with sweat, sliding against each other, building up that rolling, exquisite cadence until the pace increased to something harder and frenetic and painfully right. Until Faith's fingers were curling inside, driving into her and reaching spots that made Buffy weak with sensation. Until she was twisted from the inside out and mouths and hands and bare skin were the only things she could comprehend.

Buffy came with a fractured cry, as she finally reached that peak and her orgasm expanded suddenly and fiercely inside of her. She closed her eyes, scraped her nails so hard against Faith's back that she might have drawn blood, and it utterly shattered her. Her head was full of white noise, blank buzzing as she rode it out, as Faith's fingers stayed inside her pulsing walls and she was surrounded by hot, oblivious ecstasy. After what could have been 10 seconds or 25 minutes, she collapsed against the bed, head spinning, limbs warm and torpid.

She opened her eyes to see Faith watching her, a small, warm smile on her face. Buffy raised a shaking hand and brushed the damp strands of hair out of Faith's face, fingertips running over hot skin. Faith closed her eyes and melted into her touch. She was glowing, so purely content, face smooth and unburdened. She looked young. She looked beautiful. Buffy's breath hitched at the sight.

"Why did we wait so long to do this?" Buffy whispered. Graveyard quickies suddenly seemed distant, seemed indescribably empty.

Faith opened her eyes and smiled at her. "Fuck if I know," she said hoarsely.

Buffy grasped the other girl's shoulders and deftly and abruptly rolled them over. Faith whimpered as Buffy's hips pressed into the warmth between the brunette's legs.

"You know," Buffy said, smiling and cocking her head, "I have this strange memory of promising to report back to our new Watcher."

"That's odd. 'Cause I have the exact opposite memory of promising never to talk to his sorry ass again," Faith croaked.

Buffy lowered her head to Faith's bare breast, drawing her nipple into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. Faith inhaled sharply, hips bucking.

"Let's split the diff and say we ignore him for tonight," she whispered against Faith's chest. And then proceeded to slide her way down Faith's still-slick body, mouth moving towards its destination.

Chapter 20: Reactions

Author's Notes: So, I have to deal with some stuff over the next week and I'm not sure how frequently I'll be able to post. I will do my very best to keep it regular, though.

Buffy opened her eyes blearily to see a dazzling shaft of sunlight peeking through the blinds. There was a moment of slight confusion at the unfamiliar scenery, but then she experienced a rush of ridiculously pleasant memories from last night and smiled. They hadn't stopped touching, tasting, writhing, wrapped around each other, for hours and hours. Buffy didn't think she had felt, during her entire life, a fraction of what she had felt last night. Feeling, sensations, (positions) that she hadn't imagined. She could still see Faith's eyes, full of gentle need, and the trembling in her fingers as she touched her. Could feel a diffuse, eminently satisfied ache between her legs, a remnant of last night's activities.

She inhaled the scents of the motel room, of sex and vanilla and Faith, and then frowned as she realized she couldn't feel a warm body behind her.

Buffy twisted around to see the other side of the bed and found it empty. An irrational rush of fear went through her, an unwelcome memory surfacing of waking up in a similarly empty bed last year.

She closed her eyes tightly, breathing deeply, and felt the surge of overwhelming apprehension slowly recede. Not the same situation, she told herself. No "perfect happiness" loop with Faith. A prickling of anxiety remained though, because where would Faith go? This was her motel room.

Buffy threw back the sheets and began picking up her clothes strewn around the room. She plucked her bra off the corner of the dresser, put everything hastily on, and opened the door to blazing, distinctly non-morning sunlight. Shit. Her mom would be frantically worried by now, not to mention Giles and Wesley, although the latter would probably be more outraged than concerned with her well-being.

She paused before stepping out. Should she wait for Faith, see if she was coming back? Buffy hesitated and then shook her head. No, she had to check in with her various authority figures before one of them spontaneously combusted.

Twenty minutes later, Buffy arrived at her home to confront and mollify her anxious mother, whose relief at seeing her daughter safe was quickly replaced by indignant anger at her absence. She took a quick shower, changed, and, after reassuring her mother than she was not going to disappear for another 22 hours, walked towards the school. She reflected that her morning just wasn't going that well, and that Wesley probably wouldn't help matters.

"This is absolutely unacceptable," Wesley said in a high-pitched, affronted voice. Buffy had opened the library doors to see Wesley standing two feet away and waiting for her, arms crossed and fuming. Yup, she thought resignedly. Not really helping.

Giles was leaning nonchalantly against the door frame of his office, eating an apple and looking vaguely interested at the events unfolding before him.

"I agree completely," Buffy said, semi-earnestly. "Have you seen Faith?"

Giles frowned. "Did you get separated last night?"

Buffy blushed furiously, thinking of the distinct lack of separation that happened during the majority of last night. "Uh — well, um — yes?"

Giles raised an eyebrow, giving her a stern, "I can see right through your crap" look. Buffy folded.

"She, uh, wasn't at her motel this morning ... when I woke up." She said the last part in a very quiet, timid voice. Giles snorted, mumbled something resembling "bloody adolescent libidos."

"This is beside the point!" Wesley interrupted. "We were discussing how you went gallivanting off last night with no regard for your responsibilities!"