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Being the Chosen One is hard enough, really. Senior year of high school is already stressful with the papers and college applications and constant pressure from her mom and teachers alike. Add on the weight of the world, a Watcher who treats her like a child, and patrols that take up most of her Friday nights, well. Being the Chosen One is no walk in the park.
But, dating the Chosen One? That’s a whole other story.
Everything about Faith Lehane is sexy smirks and rolled eyes and perfected lipstick. Buffy hardly even had girls on her radar before this Chosen One 2.0 made her way into her life. Now, Giles is constantly on her back about staying focused during training. But, really, how is she supposed to pay attention when her girlfriend is all sweaty and gorgeous and grunt-y? She just feels so... so gay . Buffy Summers is so freaking gay she can hardly contain it, (Well, she’s bi, she’s definitely bi. Leonardo DiCaprio always provokes the “good, down-low tickle” Faith likes to talk about with a cheeky grin.) and Faith Lehane is her enabler. Her sapphic enabler. Damn her.
Now, Buffy’s all cool with her new-found identity, really, but keeping their relationship on the DL is important to her. Mom finding out might actually put into play the events of But I’m a Cheerleader. (Faith bought her that VHS, actually. They curl up in Buffy’s bed after patrol and pop it in, every few weeks. She has an embarrassing crush on Natasha Lyonne.) In fact, it would turn out so much like that movie, they opted to hide it in her slaying trunk, where they know Joyce would never snoop.
Joyce isn’t home, and Natasha Lyonne just made eye contact with Clea DuVall on screen, but they aren’t exactly paying attention. Buffy Summers’s girlfriend is kissing her neck in a way that an onlooker would probably find ironic, given their callings. But, all she can think about is the feeling of her dark lipstick smudging on her skin and the incredible, sinful things she’s doing with her tongue. Her lips, kiss-swollen and warm, trail up her jaw.
“God, B, your pupils are so blown right now. Am I turning you on?”
“Not at all. You know how I feel about Natasha Lyonne.”
Faith looks back at the TV, and she laughs. Buffy finds it sort of endearing, her make-up smudgey and her eyes just as blown as hers must be. She also finds it crazy sexy. “Do I have to turn off the movie just to get my girl to pay me some attention?”
“Mm-mm, I’ll make it up to you.” Buffy grins, and she’s flipping them over, about to kiss her senseless, when she catches sight of herself in the mirror. Her neck is totally purple.
It’s not just the lipstick.
“Faith!” She immediately sits up to where she’s straddling Faith’s stomach, but she can’t even focus on how good it feels when she’s got this ginormous freakin’ hickey for the whole world to see. “What the hell! You know my mom can’t find out!”
“Relax, B,” Faith tries to pull her down and tempt her with her soft inviting lips and her stupidly beautiful, lusty doe eyes. But, Buffy Summers is The Slayer, dammit. She’s strong. She can ignore her girlfriend’s seductive techniques… for a few minutes. When Buffy doesn’t budge, her girlfriend frowns. “Don’t worry. We’re slayers. Marks don’t last long on us.”
Buffy huffs, “That’s the deal when it’s from regular people or monsters or whatever. We’re both slayers. We cancel each other out. Like a really sexy math equation. ...wait. Forget I said that.”
“Are you tellin’ me those hickeys I gave you last week…--”
“I basically ran out of concealer, Faith. And you know how expensive it is.”
Faith looks pensive, lips parted and a slow smile taking them over. “I think they’re hot, though. Really fuckin’ hot.”
Buffy sighs, giving in, “As long as you don’t put them anywhere visible.”
Faith grins, raising an eyebrow. “Like where?”
“I’ll show you.” Buffy bites her lip and shifts so she can pull off Faith’s denim shorts, letting her nails graze the pale skin as they travel down her thighs. Her heart thumps hard in her chest when Faith lets out a low gasp.
“Christ, B…” Faith breathes as Buffy’s lips ghost over her inner thighs, “You’re gonna be the death a’ me, vamps be damned.”
Buffy laughs, then teases the sensitive skin with her teeth. Faith’s quivering beneath her, and a hand reaches out to grip her hair. “Somebody’s eager.”
“Gee,” She says, swallowing, “Wonder why. Nothin’ to do with the babe between my legs, that’s for sure. Now are you gonna take these panties off or shall I?”
“Nuh-uh, not happening.” Buffy grins up at her, “This is a demonstration, remember?” With that, her lips fall to soft skin of her thigh. Nibbling and sucking and biting, Buffy has Faith tensing, trying not to pull her hair too hard, but that goes out the window probably around the time she remembers that this is Buffy, and she doesn’t have to hold back, anymore.
When she pulls away, she’s immeasurably proud of the mark she’s left on her skin. Her gut is twisting. Faith’s panting.
“So… I think you need some more examples.”
“Please.”
It’s November, so it can make sense that Buffy just casually decided to sport a turtleneck to school, today. No one comments all morning, though Cordelia does raise an eyebrow, but Buffy’s thinking that may have just been a dig at her fashion choices and not a sign that she knows about the giant hickey she’s skillfully covering up.
Buffy likes being discreet.
Faith… does not.
When she walks into the library for the day’s Scooby meeting, she’s met with a wide-eyed stare from Willow. A furiously-attempting-to-avoid-eye-contact Xander. A less-than-impressed Cordelia. And a dangerous grin from Faith.
It’s November, so even in SoCal, people tend to cover up just a little more than usual.
Faith apparently never got the memo.
Crop top and short shorts. Short shorts. Like, arrested for public indecency short shorts. Arrested for public indecency short shorts that give a perfect view to the plethora of deep purple bruises Buffy left on her ass and thighs the night prior. She can’t even get started on the bite marks and scratches around her collarbone. This is bad. She’s so pissed. So embarrassed. So stupidly turned on.
When Giles walks in from his office, he doesn’t comment, and goes straight into the latest demon activity on the Hellmouth. The meeting goes smoothly, well, as smoothly as it can with Faith sitting next to Buffy and tracing patterns on her thigh under the table.
“And since this particular subset of Hellion is new to the Americas, they’re-- oh, for heaven’s sake, Faith, take a jacket from the lost and found and sit on the other side of the room. Buffy, really, Cordelia has retained more of what I’ve said than you.”
“Can’t dresscode me, G-man, I ain’t a student.” Faith grins. Buffy facepalms.
“Faith…” Giles warns, and she makes a big show of getting up and swinging her hips as she walks out. Buffy’s face burns when she sees the very visible bite mark right below the frayed denim on her ass.
The Scooby meeting from Hell is adjourned shortly after, but Faith’s still not back from the lost and found. Buffy waits in the library, roaming the bookshelves aimlessly, until her girlfriend grabs her from behind and pins her to the wall.
“Where have you been?” She asks, but Faith’s lips attack her skin, and her resolve melts away. Faith Lehane always knows how to shut her up. Her lips travel from her mouth to her jaw and she tugs at the turtleneck.
She pulls away. Holds up a shopping bag. Gives a dazzling, dangerous smile.
“Stocked up on concealer.”
It doesn’t last long.