IV.
Going to the Bronze is supposed to be a fun activity. Hanging out with your friends, dancing; you know, celebrating that the world isn't going to end in the next five minutes. That's always good right? It's supposed to be fun.
But Buffy isn't having fun.
Why is it that Faith feels the need to slut it up in front of her every thirty seconds? Can't she just, for once, stay and hang out with her like she actually gives a shit?
Apparently not.
While Buffy hangs on the couches with Willow and Xander, Faith is on the dance floor with some guy, looking like she's trying out to be the world's unclassiest stripper as she uses him as her own personal pole; grinding on him in a way that can't possibly be legal in public establishments.
Buffy wants to chop off his pole.
Yes, you know the one.
"What's with the long face, Buffster?" Xander asks concerned.
"What?" Buffy asks, tearing her eyes away from Faith and her disposable sex toy. "Nothing, I'm fine. Just tired I guess."
What's wrong is that she's watching the girl she's been heavily crushing on practically have sex with a stranger in front of her and the rest of Sunnydale, that's what's wrong.
"Does she have any sense of self dignity?" comes the voice of non other than Buffy's biggest headache; Cordelia. She's looking over at Faith with disgust as she sits next to Xander. She continues, "I swear, if 'Girls Gone Wild' came in here with a video camera, they'd probably offer her slutty ass a five year contract."
"She's not a slut," Buffy defends, glaring at her.
Except she is; even Faith admits she is. But that's not the point; she doesn't like Cordelia talking about her future girlfriend like that.
Ha. Right. Girlfriend. Like Faith would ever be interested in something like that.
If Buffy ever did get up the nerve to tell her she wants her, she's pretty sure she'd get fucked and then tossed to the side the next morning.
And then probably made fun of for the rest of her short life.
"You need to get your eyes checked Buffy, because that right there is a prime example of Grade A sluttiness," Cordelia tells her, pointing over at Faith unashamedly.
You don't point at people when you talk shit about them. What the hell is wrong with her?
"So what's it like being poor, Cordelia? Do you have to shop at thrift stores yet?" Buffy asks sweetly, a sarcastic smile on her face as she cuts her down a peg or two.
Cordelia looks like she's trying to smite Buffy on the spot. They have a glaring match for one long moment that makes Xander and Willow feel really awkward until Cordelia announces:
"Come on Xander, we're leaving."
"We are?" Xander asks, looking confused for a moment.
"Yes," she stresses, grabbing his hand and pulling him up, practically dragging him along behind her. She gives Buffy one last vile look before finishing, "We are."
And then there were two.
"That was mean, Buffy," Willow chides her softly.
"She was making fun of Faith!" Buffy defends loudly. Willow blushes a deep shade of red.
Every time Faith's name is mentioned she ends up doing that.
Buffy wishes she could hate her for making out with Faith that one time when they were drunk, but she can't. Willow's too sweet to ever hate.
"Hey girlfriend, ya gonna sit there all night or ya actually gonna come dance?" Faith asks, sauntering up to them finally; apparently she ditched the human pole. She swears Faith puts an extra swagger in her step just to make Buffy unable to breathe properly when she looks at her. Like now.
Buffy never thought she would appreciate leather pants, but that's all she seems to be doing lately. The way they hug low on her hips, tight against her ass, showing off her toned thighs. God, it's like an extra skin on her she wears it so well. An extra, sexy, beautiful… skin…? Why is everyone staring at her like that?
"Huh? What?" Buffy asks, flushing a little since she obviously missed something during her big Check-Out-Faith-Fest of 1999.
Faith looks amused. "You, me; dance floor. Ya game?"
"Oh. I… um…" Buffy stutters, looking over at Willow like she should save her from this.
Anytime now.
Yup, anytime now…
Willow just stares back at her, waiting for her answer. Okay, so saving would be a no, then. Right.
Buffy fiddles with her hands nervously, "I, um, I shouldn't. Cause… I don't wanna leave Willow alone! That'd be bad, you know; friends don't leave other friends alone on couches. There are stories about that; they never end well."
Okay, Earth to Buffy? Babbling makes you look like a complete idiot.
"Oh no, that's okay, Buffy," Willow says brightly, purposely avoiding any and all eye contact with Faith like she's been doing lately. "Oz is almost done with his set; I'm going to go say hi. Maybe see if he wants a mocha."
And then she's up in a flash and gone even quicker.
The cheese stands alone.
Okay, not exactly alone since Faith is with her, but still.
The point is that she's alone with Faith, and that's… something she tries to avoid for a whole colorful array of reasons; one of them being that she's now staring at Faith's breasts like she found Jesus hidden in her cleavage.
Okay, that would be a weird visual. She's pretty sure God should smite her for even having that thought.
"Come on, B; live a little," Faith tells her, apparently not asking anymore if she wants to dance; she's just going to make her whether Buffy likes it or not. Faith grabs her hand, pulling her to her feet and dragging her to the dance floor. Buffy just follows behind her in a daze, too focused on how nice Faith's hand feels in hers to notice anything else going on around them at the moment.
She idly wonders if she moisturizes. With hands that soft, Faith's got to do something.
Ohmygodthere'sboobsinherface.
Faith puts one hand on Buffy's hip and pulls her impossibly close to her as she starts to dance, effectively almost smooshing Buffy's face in her cleavage. Buffy just stares, wide eyed, trying to remember how to move her feet and dance so she doesn't look like a complete and utter perverted moron.
Move feet, move hips, stay competent; think about bananas, or apples, or maybe even a lawnmower, anything but how Faith's hand is slowly moving up the back of her shirt.
Hands… hands! Where do her hands go?! Oh god, she probably looks so retarded dancing around with her hands having their own annoying, danceless agenda.
She could have sworn she used to know how to do this.
But that thought goes away once Faith takes one of Buffy's hands in hers (which goes back to the oh my god, can she read minds? theory) and holds them up over their head while she dances so close to her that even a sheet of paper couldn't squeeze between them.
Buffy knows her breathing has become slightly irregular, but she's hoping Faith just thinks it's because she's dancing so hard.
Hard.
Riding hard.
Hard cli—BAD THOUGHTS!
Buffy tries to pull away from Faith, maybe for some breathing room, but that doesn't seem to be part of Faith's master plan to drive her completely insane, because she wraps one arm around her waist as she slips her thigh through Buffy's legs.
Grinding into her.
And, just to clarify, when Buffy says grinding, she means as in; right on the 'oh my god wow' spot.
Yeah. That spot.
Buffy gasps hard at the pressure, but tries to stifle it by biting on her lower lip obnoxiously hard. Ow! Damnit, she's gonna have a bruise later, but shit, that can wait because right now she is in crisis mode!
There should be a flashing neon sign that reads: "Abort mission! Enemy target knows she can get you off!"
But no such sign comes, and all Buffy can do is wrap her arms around Faith's neck and struggle to continue dancing in a competent way that shows that no, she does not get off on this. That she is just dancing. That Faith knows she's just dancing; which in all honesty she doubts. At least not with that low chuckle in her ear that's making a shiver go down to the base of her spine.
Faith presses her thigh harder against Buffy's clit.
Buffy bites back a strangled, pathetic sounding whimper.
"Just let go, B," Faith whispers in her ear, and Buffy's pretty sure she knows exactly what kind of effect she's having on her. This can't be good.
And 'let go'? If she 'let go' then she'd probably end up coming all over Faith's leathers!
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BRONZE!
Buffy takes a shuddered breath, trying to hold herself together. This is too much; this is like five exits back from too much. This wasn't supposed to happen; she was supposed to be able to stay forever in the blissful land of Faith-Maybe-Possibly-Doesn't-Know-How-Much-I-Want-Her.
She bought a house in that land, for shit's sake! She had made camp there; it was peaceful! There are no lewd activities such as this there; if there were, the Sherriff would surely arrest them both.
…Okay, she's drifting a bit, but she's trying to not concentrate on the delicious friction between her thighs.
She's so going to hell. There's probably a special place for anyone who has quasi-sex with Faith in the middle of the Bronze.
"God, B… I can smell how wet you are…" Faith purrs into her ear, grabbing onto her ass.
Okay, no! Bad hands, bad touching! Bad… everything! THIS IS BADNESS FROM THE REALM OF BAD!
Buffy pulls away from Faith quickly, practically pushing her away. She's breathing heavily and her cheeks are flushed as she struggles to lie, "I'm not… I'm not wet Faith! Oh my god, you…! Oh god." Now she's in full on panic mode. "I… I-I need to go," Buffy stammers, before practically running away from Faith without letting her say another word.
I think the score on that would be Faith: 1; Buffy: 0.
Yeah, she's going to hell.
TBC…
