Slow

by Nikita

Copyright © 2003

death_by_garagedoor@yahoo.co.uk

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the great and powerful Joss.
Distribution: Forever Faith: http://mysticmuse.net/faith
The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
All others, please ask first.
Feedback: Yes please.
Spoilers: None.
Author's Notes: It is I, the bearer of unbelievably pointless titles. That is all.
Dedication: Sway. Duh. And everyone who gives me good fb. Thank you
Pairing: Faith/Buffy

She's painfully aware of every movement, every response. She feels the smallest trickle of sweat trail down the back of her neck, escaping at a run to the freedom of her smooth skin. The screaming of her muscles and the tightness of her chest seem to become amplified under the stare. But that was never a surprise.

Everything feels drawn out, epic, in a constant state of slow motion. And it's all because of her.

She flinches slightly under the gaze of eyes that never learned to apologize for their interest, eyes that would never understand the concept of asking. They take; her body, her mind, her very soul into their depths, letting her bask in the heat they exude.

And she is, as always, helpless.

As if it is possible, time seems to slow even more as the girl moves for the first time. The bed on which she lies makes no sound as her hands push down, starting the wave of her body, rippling muscle and a grace of movement unearthly in it's perfection.

And she rises. Strands of wild, dark hair fall over a face that betrays none of the scars of her life, the skin there too smooth to hide the youthful beauty she masks with thick, black makeup and a growl from those soft lips.

This is what the blonde has waited for. Through a night of fighting, running, bleeding, she has held this image in her mind. The image she takes with her everywhere, never daring to set it down for fear of losing it forever in the darkness of the world in which they live.

This image of her, a beauty made from a harsh reality, warm in spite of it's own anger and confusion. And so strong one brief glimpse can bring tears to her eyes.

Her breathing steadies into a rhythm of anticipation as she watches, slow steps towards her that are filled with the impossible promise of forever, defiant against the world in their perfect belief of having all the time they need. They cling to that in everything they do, unwilling, unable to accept that one day those steps will lead nowhere. That they will one day lead to no one.

For now, time will have to answer to them.

Close enough to taste her in the air, Faith reaches out with one smooth hand to brush the skin of her lover, a small smile growing unbidden on her lips. And it is met with a smile of Buffy's own, because that touch that sends a million sparks shooting down her spine is all the confirmation she needs for that moment. Her desire is not alone.

Pushing aside the urge to file and label their relationship in a neatly stacked box in her mind, she allows herself to sink into the touch, the world around her blurring as she feels warm breath on her lips and her hand on a firm stomach.

Meaningless words, promises, questions leave her mind, and she is left with nothing but the burning on her skin in every place her lover touches her. The softness of her kiss is always shocking, a direct contrast to the way she lives her life, all violence and anger. The touch of those lips on hers is firm, confident, yet undeniably gentle. That first kiss is always the same, a reintroduction, a gesture that means so much more than the words "I missed you."

And it burns. Slow, hot, passionate. Her tongue sliding into her willing mouth increasing the arousal she has felt throughout the night, arousal built from a million places that only one person can reach.

Desperation, fear, the inability to ever be close enough combines with the sheer beauty and desire of the girl pressed against her. And it is everything, enough, and yet only the very beginning of their potential.

It is the flat palm of her lover's hand that causes the blonde to finally lose the ability for coherent thought. Sliding under the inconsiderate fabric of her top, it rests, almost casually on her breast, teasingly aware of the arousal it causes by the rapid hardening of her nipple under it's pressure.

And as always, and as never before, she responds.

Where clothing once covered them, there are now only threads, nails piercing and ripping through cotton in their impatient need to feel the skin underneath and stopping only as the heat engulfs them.

Buffy pauses momentarily, her eyes once again meeting those dark ones as she feels a hand push her to the bed. And she lets herself go, willing and able to be taken in any way, ready to give herself up entirely to the passion she feels. And the thought arrives her quickly, a small wondering if this is how it is to live Faith's life.

It is gone as soon as it arrived, chased away by lips and hands covering her nipples that are already erect with lust. She arches, moaning the name of the girl above her over and over as if she could ever forget it. It is the only name she ever wants to say, and the only one that ever comes to her lips.

She feels teeth briefly, a slight grazing against her breast before an able tongue glides ever downwards, kissing and licking at the toned stomach and smooth skin. As passion increases and drags their slowness along with it, a whimper escapes Buffy's lips, and unknowing why, she suddenly feels the cold hit her skin in a way she has never felt before.

And it's almost as it she could cry.

She reaches for her lover, pulling her back up her body and relaxing again as the heat comes back to her. The questioning in Faith's eyes in expelled as Buffy meets them, a shine of water and a shallow breathing telling her everything that she needs to know. And past their sweat-covered bodies, she slides her hand downwards to meet the heat between the blonde's legs.

She cries out once as she feels her enter her, her touch never failing to make her breath catch in her throat. And it is with her arms wrapped around Faith's neck that she moves with her, their speed slowing again to a pace where every movement can be seen written in the eyes of one another.

Her fingers deep inside her lover, Faith watches as Buffy struggles to keep those eyes open, her teeth sinking deeper and deeper into her lip until a trail of blood can be seen falling down her perfect skin. So close they move, and yet never close enough, it is Buffy that does finally break their gaze and pull her down on top of her, no part of her body going untouched, uncovered.

And as Faith's fingers curl finally inside her, as her breathing stops, as she feels her body begin to tense, she tastes blood again. Uncontrolled, almost unaware, Buffy's teeth sink deep into the skin of Faith's neck, blood filling her mouth as her lover, still quiet, brings her crying to orgasm.

Covered in sweat, tasting of blood and with the scent of sex in the air, Buffy closes her eyes and releases her. She is almost too embarrassed to look at her, the metallic taste strong in her mouth and it's texture covering her skin. She almost expects a joke at the absurdity of what she has done, but finally opening her eyes, she sees sadness instead.

Faith doesn't even put her fingers to the wound, doesn't even look to see the blood. She keeps her eyes locked with hers, and smiles softly.

And suddenly, Buffy is sobbing, reaching for her and finding herself cradled in strong arms.

And a low gentle voice is in her ear.

"I know." Faith whispers. "I know..."

She holds her, hands in her hair and arms around her, comforting as the blonde finally falls asleep.

And staying awake, she watches over her, keeping her the whole night in her arms.

And giving her the only forever she has the power to give.

The End

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