Chapter 18
Warm, warmer
I wake in a slow unfurling. Expanding out. My limbs feel a pleasant kinda heavy, embraced by the welcoming softness of the mattress. The air comes fresh into my lungs, like life slipping into me unhindered.
I hum and lay still. No rush to be anywhere. Work is for when the sun goes down.
I know Faith is in my bed still. I can hear her breathing and feel the heat of her beating against me, even though we aren't touching. I glance over. She has one hand curled against her cheek, the other thrown over her pillow.
I want to snuggle into her warmth again, but am uncertain how the rules of intimacy apply between us. She embraced me because of my distress. Nothing more. And now in the morning light, with my emotions still rubbed raw, it feels wrong to reach out uninvited.
Also, thatta way lies complicated things. Things that, perhaps, I am still not ready to deal with. I vaguely remember my dream being weirdly sexual, but even as I say this it is erasing itself, evaporating from my mind leaving a sense of discomfort and the remains of arousal between my legs.
I look back at Faith, deep in sleep, hair mussed about her, and remember her pressing into me. I feel myself starting to become aroused again. I sit with the feeling for a change, not fighting it, not immediately distracting myself. Just… letting.
The sensation isn't really much different at all. The tightening, the little tugs, the growing, spreading yearning in my gut. Part of me twitches, sensitive of the folds around it. A stronger tugging sensation and the feeling is rising in my chest, around my lungs. My fingertips become hyper aware of the threads of the sheets, the almost powdery feel of my skin as my fingers rub against each other. That external part of me twitches again, insisting and strained. The weight of my erection is missing, the lift, lift, lift of it as the blood enters, the uncomfortable pressure of it filled to bursting. Instead that pressure occurs deeper, that wanting.
Pressing my legs together elicits a small amount of pleasure. But I ache to be touched, and that isn't satisfied by such broad friction. I…
What am I doing? Beyond the mental exercise of allowing my body to experience itself a little more I am working myself into dangerous territory. Faith is asleep beside me and, supposing she woke and turned to me and she…
This me?
Had that pause after been the invitation I thought it was? Faith was not remotely subtle when she propositioned me the first time. Why would she be any different with me now. Assuming she was even attracted to girls in the first place. In the time we were friends she had this flirty way of talking to everyone. But that was just Faith, just the way she approached everything. She flirted. Be it with boys, girls, danger and… well, evil.
Plus let's not forget how I was the queen of projecting. Hello Buffy Summers. Queen? King? Shit, I don't even know anymore.
I had not seen Buffy as anything but straight. Not even when she was talking sexuality with me did I even think to question hers. I just assumed. And yet, she was clearly involved with Tara. Not comfortable coming out about it, but I could see in the desperate way she pleaded her innocence that Tara meant a great, great deal to her. I am such an idiot.
And that means I officially have no gaydar. So I cannot read Faith.
Nope.
Still, knowing that Buffy is attracted to women kinda makes we rewind on all our history. Including her interactions with Willow, Cordelia, Kendra and… well, Faith. After the initial insecurity and jealousy they seemed joined at the hip. Until it exploded spectacularly.
Buffy likes girls. Had she liked Faith that way?
Pondering this has taken the edge off my mad hornies somewhat, but I am still feeling the heck out of it. That is not of the good. I take a deep breath and let my knees fall apart, trying to reduce the contact with my groin. I need to cool this crazy train way, way off.
Uhg. I am not even sure waking in the same bed as Faith is a good idea.
I get up, careful not to wake her and pad over to the kitchenette. Coffee on, toast on, and slump into my chair and put my feet on the table.
I am still a bit touchy feely, so I find myself running my hands over my legs. I have only been really intimate with Cordelia and Faith, both of whom kept their legs shaved. It felt nice. I mean, I am not exactly a gorilla, the dark hairs on my legs is softer and finer than when I was… than before, but it is noticeable. As Faith coiled her leg around mine last night I felt the roughness of my leg against hers.
I don't know why I resist the idea of feminine grooming. It's not like I will be getting my body back at any stage soon. Especially now I have alienated the people who could have helped me. I can't imagine how they would react to me knowing I am harboring Faith. Still, the long hair feels kinda nice too. Maybe I should leave it.
Benefits? A) Flaunting problematic cultural norms and gender stereotypes. B) I am lazy and I just don't wanna.
A low moan draws my attention back to Faith. But I realise the sound is not one of pleasure. She jerks, and twitches. I approach, cautiously.
"Faith?" I say, without thinking. "Faith?"
Her hair is sweaty as I brush it from her face. She doesn't look too crash hot.
"Lex?" She says, croaking and feint. "Alex?'
"Hey, you're burning up." I say, pressing my hand to her scalp. Then I realise I can talk. Somehow that doesn't feel important right now. I fetch Faith's antibiotics, and whatever the heck the doc tacked on and slip them to her with a mug of juice.
"Feel like crap" she croaks.
"S'okay, we got nowhere to be." I say. "Just sleep."
"She's in there." She whispers, scrunching her clammy brow. "She's… I'm..." and then she trails off.
Whilst I eat breakfast, I go over the instructions the doctor left me again and again. What worries me is that I know that Slayers are different to us. Buffy needs horse sized tranquilizers to soften her pain, and the girl can shake off diseases that would drop an elephant.
Faith's immune system has been compromised by her coma. So whatever is keeping her Slayer healing from fighting this off may just be a regular human kind of infection. Fingers crossed, the antibiotic should help her beat that. But what if it doesn't?
Giles would know. But calling Giles would mean turning Faith in to the Watcher's Council. Or putting her into the path of a pissed off Buffy.
I look back at the girl, tossing and turning in my bed. Her face is ashen, eyes sunken and red. Turn her in, or let her die? I didn't want to make that call. I just hoped she would recover.
I get to the ziplock and shake out Faiths next dosage, throw a straw and an electrolyte tablet into a fresh bottle of water and mix up a mug of protein supplement.
"'Lex?" Faith mumbles as I put the tray down next to her.
"Yeah, it's me. I'm here." She is clammy to the touch, with dry flecks around her lips. I guide her up to a half sitting position, and slip the straw into her mouth. She takes in half the bottle. I offer the pills but she sorta fumbles vaguely at them, so I put each to her lips one by one. "That's it. You got it."
"You know…" she said. "Done some dumb ass things in my time." She says as I ease her back on the pillow. "Lot of shit I regret."
"I'm not a priest." I say.
"You just pour the drinks. I know." She whispers with a smile. Her eyes open a little, pink and glossy. "But yunno what I don't regret?"
"What?"
"Going back to save your dumb ass."
"Well, there's still time." I smile, and brush her hair back from her face.
