This Is How It Goes

Buffy stopped walking and turned completely to look at Faith. "That's it? You fight because it feels good?" she asked incredulously.

"B." Faith's expression changed to something infinitely more dangerous, something predatory. Her voice had taken on that rough quality that made Buffy's stomach flop. "I do most things `cause they feel good."

She stepped forward, very deliberately invading Buffy's space, and the atmosphere changed again. Buffy's heart started thumping erratically, her legs suddenly feeling unstable.

"There's a name for that, right?" Faith asked, her voice a little deeper, a little huskier.

"Uh," Buffy said wittily, and hated how her voice broke so easily. "Hedonist?"

"Yeah, that's it. I'm a grade A hedonist." Faith was staring at her fixedly, smiling dangerously.

Buffy felt like something was about to happen that she had no control over. Her mind was going into a thoughtless hibernation as Faith moved even closer. She could smell leather and vanilla and some kind of really unexpected flowery aroma, could see the other Slayer's dark eyes growing darker.

Faith stopped moving and her head snapped up as they both felt those familiar prickles. Buffy's brain began functioning again.

"Oh, thank God," Buffy croaked.

Faith turned her head around and her eyes were glittering and amused. "Don't think you're getting off that easy, blondie. I like to take a little time before that happens." Her smirk was impossibly indecent. Buffy tried to desperately ignore the cascade of images accompanying that comment.

The two Slayers turned as a group of vampires strolled casually around the side of the nearest mausoleum, talking and laughing. Buffy and Faith took out their stakes, tensed their muscles in anticipation.

"Hey," Buffy said loudly (and only a little shakily), and the vampires turned around, surprised. "Aren't you guys supposed to be able to sense us or something?"

"Yeah, B. Poor fuckers. They musta missed that day of vampire class," Faith supplied arrogantly.

"Or maybe we just aren't afraid of little girls," one of the vampires said, and then looked at his group uncertainly. "There isn't really a vampire class, right?" he asked quietly.

Buffy and Faith launched themselves into the group, and then there were only the sounds of slaying, of fists hitting flesh, hard breathing, grunting, bodies falling, hitting gravestones. Punch, kick, sweep, dust. Repeat until satisfied. Block, roundhouse, stake plunging home as bodies dissolved. Buffy felt almost exultant. Faith was right, they were made for this. Her body responded purely on instinct, no thought. She could see Faith fighting and it made Buffy ache to look at her. Such fluid violence and movement.

The two Slayers finished their last vamps and stood alone, shoulders heaving and bodies vibrating with adrenaline and the ferocious rush of violence. Buffy stayed with her head down, staring at the small pile of dust that had been, just a minute ago, hitting her in the face. She didn't want to look up, see Faith's face. Her body was thrumming as she clenched her fists to try to regain control. There were rhythms all through her. Pounding between her legs, in her hands, her wrists, blood pumping in her temples. She flashed on Faith's words before the fight and realized she was almost painfully wet.

She finally raised her head and found Faith staring intently at her. She saw Faith's mouth was slightly open, her lips sensual and bruised, and couldn't stop herself from running her eyes over the rapid rise and fall of her chest, her breasts straining against the thin fabric of her shirt. Buffy found herself wondering how they would feel against her hands and flushed, suddenly embarrassed. She snapped her head away.

"That was almost disappointingly easy," Buffy said, her voice shaky and breathless.

Faith didn't answer her. The silence was so completely un-Faith. Buffy looked up again as she heard Faith closing the distance between them. The other Slayer's body moved swiftly, purposefully, until she grabbed Buffy's forearms and slammed her up against the mausoleum wall. Buffy's breath hitched, her heart slamming wildly against her rib cage. Their bodies were inches apart, and Buffy could feel the heat and energy pouring off Faith in waves. There was a second when Faith simply looked at her, gauging her reaction, almost seeking permission. Buffy couldn't have said anything if she'd tried. Still watching her, Faith deftly slipped a thigh in between Buffy's legs and leaned in.

"God," Buffy hissed.

A deep groan rose in her throat. And suddenly they were kissing, mouths working and opening frantically. Kissing a girl was like kissing a guy, except completely different, Buffy thought intelligently. Faith's lips were soft and full, and Buffy melted into that deep, warm heat in both of their mouths. There was sweetness in the other Slayer's motions, a thorough and unexpected tenderness that completely contrasted with the rampant passion Buffy was feeling. Faith ran her tongue along the edge of Buffy's lip and she opened her mouth, meeting her tentatively, slipping into each other. Buffy's hands moved to Faith's neck and face, sliding deep into her hair, fingernails digging into the back of Faith's head.

Buffy's breathing grew ragged as Faith's hands slid into the space between her body and the mausoleum wall, moving across her bare back and slowly gliding around, fingernails raking gently across her clenched stomach. Her hands moved up and cupped Buffy's breasts through the fabric of her bra. Buffy gasped into Faith's mouth, tongues still tangling, and her hips rolled forward on their volition, seeking the firmness of Faith's thigh.

They began a glorious rhythm then, Buffy's hips surging, Faith's thigh pushing back. Every time the other Slayer pushed in, her leg pressing solidly, her warm, practiced hands on Buffy's breasts, something in her throat and stomach snagged. Faith's hands went to her ass, pulling her along and shifting her along that length of muscle. She rode Faith's thigh, shuddering and groaning, and had never been so turned on or wetter. Her entire body was shaking, the only truly stable presence being the pounding between her weak legs and the rhythmic motion of her and Faith.

Buffy moved her head back, stopped kissing.

"Faith ..." she tried to start, and swallowed hard. "I — I can't stand up."

She saw Faith give a small, gentle, and distinctly un-cocky grin, her intense expression softening. She drew back a little and her hands went slowly down to the backs of Buffy's thighs, lifting her in one effortless motion. She hooked the blonde Slayer's legs around her waist and moved them into the wall, thrusting her hips toward and creating a beautiful friction that made Buffy's eyes roll back. A deep growl issued from her mouth that lasted precisely as long as it took for Faith to lower her mouth down and slip her tongue in again.

Buffy thought her entire central nervous system was going into some sort of seizure. The sensations moving through her body were incomprehensible. She tried to remind herself that this was Faith, not only a girl, but a girl who fucked like other people breathed. What precisely the hell was going on here? Why was she letting this happen? How could this possibly feel so good? And then Buffy's brain screeched to a grinding halt as Faith popped open the buttons of her jeans, yanked the zipper down, and slid her hand under the elastic of Buffy's underwear.

Faith's fingers moved slowly, tortuously down, stopping a centimeter away from where Buffy was aching and wet and resting there. Faith drew back with an expression of unabashed need, drifting her eyes along Buffy's slightly open, bruised mouth, down her heaving chest, her stomach, and then looking at her own hand inside Buffy's pants. Buffy shuddered under her gaze.

"Faith," she croaked weakly, trying to make her understand how much this was killing her, how much she needed it, while also trying not to sound like she was begging. That last part needed work.

Faith cocked an eyebrow at her tone, still not moving. Buffy was two seconds away from grabbing Faith's forearm and shoving her hand where it should be when the brunette slid a single finger inside her folds and pressed down, hard, on her clit.

"Fuck," Buffy let out in a strangled gasp. Her hips jerked forward.

Faith took her time, sliding through her, gathering wetness and moving in leisurely strokes and circles. Buffy's body stretched in a taut line every time Faith brushed over her clit. Every muscle was tense and shaking, her back arched and her jaw clenched. She was intensely glad her legs were around Faith and not on the ground, because there was no way they could have supported her. It felt so good she wanted to cry. Faith was exerting just the right amount of pressure, hard enough to make Buffy lightheaded, soft enough to make her shift her hips forward and look for more.

Faith moved forward, her breasts pressing into Buffy's, and lowered her mouth to Buffy's neck, sucking on her pulse point, teeth scraping on her collarbone. Buffy felt her everywhere. She was surrounded by Faith's hands, by her scent. Her entire body was on fire, a deep, delicious heat building in her stomach and between her thighs.

Faith's fingers started pressing on her clit, and Buffy couldn't stop the ragged cry that broke through the heavy stillness of the cemetery night. And then couldn't make any sound at all when Faith slid a finger slowly, deeply inside her. Faith added another finger and began a languid, unhurried rhythm, slipping in and out of her while her thumb circled her clit.

Buffy's eyes closed as her hips responded, rolling along in synch with the movements of Faith's hand. The brunette was going so slowly, and if Buffy didn't know who was doing it, she would have said gently. Buffy found her voice again, and almost wished she hadn't as she heard herself making noises she didn't even know she was capable of making. Pathetic-sounding whimpers that she would have been ashamed of if she could form coherent thoughts, some sort of high-pitched girly squeals, and shaking growls that felt as though they emanated from somewhere buried deep inside her.

She opened her eyes and found Faith once again staring at her intently. God, how had she never noticed how long her eyelashes were, how deep and wide her eyes were? Faith was looking at her with such naked, blatant hunger that Buffy shivered and almost came just staring at her. And she saw something else, a flicker of something incongruous, of something so deep and achingly tender that Buffy thought she was imagining it. Buffy lifted trembling fingers to Faith's face, gently stroking her cheeks, and felt Faith inhale sharply.

And then Buffy had to screw her eyes shut again because that slow burn inside her was turning into a friggin' napalm explosion. Her hips began surging, her breath coming in shallow, short pants.

"Faith," Buffy whispered, and thought she heard Faith's breath hitch in response.

Faith added another finger and curled them up, stroking that spot inside her, and Buffy was torn apart as the sensations coursing through her reached their peak in one violent, sweeping moment. Her entire body went rigid, clenching around Faith's fingers as the orgasm ripped through her viciously. Buffy tangled her hands in Faith's hair, vaguely felt the other girl's mouth on her neck, and arched her back as it rushed through her. She could only open her mouth and make small, ragged cries as Faith stayed buried deep inside her and lights and colors exploded within her.

Buffy's limbs didn't seem to be working after the overwhelming heat in her gave way to slow warmth. She slumped against Faith, her legs curling weakly around her waist as Faith held her up, slowing withdrawing her hand from Buffy's pants. There were several minutes where she could only breathe and try to regain feeling in her feet. And then Faith put her gently down and stepped back. Her silence was unnerving Buffy. Of course, other much more pressing matters were also unnerving Buffy.

"Look, B," Faith began, and her voice was a little hoarse, a little shaky. Buffy looked at this person in front of her, someone she realized she didn't really know, and saw the same hunger she had glimpsed earlier.

"We both needed this. Doesn't mean anything more."

And Faith walked away without another word, leaving Buffy slumped against the wall and more than just a little confused, with her pants unbuttoned, her underwear obviously not in the same condition as it had been, feeling like she had just been fucked into some sort of alternate dimension where she actually liked being fucked by girls, and wondering why exactly Faith would need this when Buffy didn't even get to return the favor.

Chapter 5: Normal People Problems

Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. Always welcome feedback.

Classes the next day were a blur of naughty images that kept replaying themselves in Buffy's head. This is getting ridiculous, she thought, as history class consisted of thinking about Faith's fingernails across her stomach and how her tongue had felt on her neck. Thinking about ... other places where her hands had been wasn't even an option, because Buffy realized that her motor functions stopped working when this happened.

Buffy wasn't even entirely sure what had happened last night. When she thought about it, the event began to adopt that slightly blurry, surreal feel of a dream, a notion that Buffy grasped onto frantically. Maybe it was a dream. A wonderfully erotic, pants-creaming, toe-curling dream. She didn't know where to fit it in, in her life, in her self-conception. She just didn't do things like that. She didn't lose self-control, and she certainly didn't lose it in the sexual arena with someone like Faith.

Buffy was exceptionally nervous going into the library that afternoon, thinking, how was she going to act normal? How could she look Faith in the face after seeing that desire and tenderness etched so clearly on it? After she had just had the best sex of her entire life in a cemetery up against the wall with, by the way, a girl.

Buffy walked into the library and instantly spotted Faith sitting at the table, combat boots propped lazily on the surface. Leather pants, short, tight, red tank top, and suddenly Buffy knew she couldn't do this. Saw a thin strip of Faith's lean stomach and wanted to do nasty, not-good things to it. She steeled herself, walked over to the table and sat down across from Faith, who was now smirking in a way like she knew exactly what was going on in Buffy's head. Which, oddly enough, did not make Buffy feel any more comfortable.

"Buffy." Giles came in from his office, and Buffy tried not to imagine his face if he knew what they had been doing last night. "Everything go alright with last night's slaying?"