E-mail: LatinaGrrl2000@yahoo.com

Rating: R

Content: B/C, slight slash.

Spoilers: None

Time Period: During Season Three, BtVS

Distribution: Anywhere, just tell me where.

Feedback: It's a must. Please do.

Summary: “An excited glint played in her eyes, and her teeth were clenched- a brilliantly orgasmic expression.”

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Faith always said slaying made her horny. It must have been the excitement of death so near...or maybe the heavy breathing and physical action. Or it just could’ve been the grunting and the sweat. The girl fought with fervor, treating each punch and kick like foreplay. She took her time, a look that resembled passion and possibly arousal coming with the strikes. An excited glint played in her eyes, and her teeth were clenched- a brilliantly orgasmic expression. It could have been the contact. Whatever it was, it made Faith incredibly horny, but it only made her hunger for low fat yogurt.

She noticed how Cordelia acted when she tagged along with the Scoobies during a night of patrolling. Xander always dragged her along, trying to give her and the Scoobies equal attention. The cheerleader complained loudly and constantly until the fighting and danger began, and her voice rose to a loud screech as she literally ran for her life. But after it was done, the screeching was replaced with heavy breathing, an excited grin, and a sharp glint in her eye. The glint was clouded by something else when Xander was on top of her, having done an extreme Die Hard leap to knock her out of harm’s way. It was the same look Faith had. She rushed Xander away from the group when that glint filled her eyes. It could’ve been the danger, or the fact that now; Xander Harris was a true action hero. But whatever it was, it made Cordelia incredibly excited.

She still only hungered for low fat yogurt.

Nevertheless, she had to think of the differences between these two dark-haired ladies and herself. Faith had her pick from any man in Sunnydale- hell, California. Cordelia, she had her boyfriend, who had grown remarkably handsome in everyone’s eyes after getting together with the May Queen. Faith could grab any man who she felt would give her a good time and there would be no argument from the guy. Cordelia had the man-child who hated to see her go, but loved to watch her leave, and they obviously saw something in each other that everyone else was missing. Faith and Cordelia had the spark- a craving.

She didn’t.

There was an urge to blame her now off-again boyfriend, but deep down she knew it wasn’t his fault. There was lust and passion there, but he was careful to avoid it at all costs, and now that they were just “friends”, the temptation was even further away. A part of her enjoyed the temptation- even looked forward to it- but the pain always overshadowed the thrill. He gives in, he turns evil, and he destroys the world. The temptation wasn’t fun anymore.

Was that it? Was it the temptation?

Cordelia played with temptation more than Faith did. She would wear short skirts and hike them up while crossing her long legs- brazenly push her hair back to reveal her low-cut shirt at the exact moment Xander walked by or glanced at her. She enjoyed the restrained reaction he gave. Her foot would often run down his leg during late night research sessions in the Sunnydale High library.

She felt the cheerleader’s leg brush hers on its way to Xander’s space.

She tried hard not to look at Cordelia when it did, but sometimes couldn’t resist. The girl was never ashamed, instead giving her a look that simply said he was her boyfriend, and she was allowed to act this way.

And there was the bitterness. She resented the freedom Cordelia had, while she was trapped. For a year, she hated Cordelia Chase, who pranced around with her boyfriend and stared at him adoringly and shamelessly in front of her, no regard for the pain she was going through. The jealously.

But Buffy couldn’t complain. At least she didn’t get the metal bar in her stomach.

The craving in Buffy was gone for a short time, replaced by the horrible taste of bile. She wasn’t sure if it was anger for Xander and Willow, or anger in herself for not doing anything, or anger at the cheerleader for making her feel pity. She just wanted the hunger back.

She liked strawberry yogurt.

The hungry temptress’ coupling was over, but that didn’t stop the temptation. She still wore the same outfits, did the same things, but this time a look of naughty amusement didn’t accompany her observation of Xander’s reaction. Now, it was something of a sad search for an idea that he still wanted her, just so she was ready to blow him off if he decided to try anything.

He never did.

And Buffy still hungered for low fat yogurt.

She walked down the dark, empty street now. The stake was shoved deep into her jacket pocket, and she was thankful the coat was a size too big. The bulge of the wood was barely noticeable. It could’ve easily been a wallet. Or keys. No one would suspect it was a stake. Or that she was the mythic, powerful being called the Slayer.

It was the worst kept secret in Sunnydale, but she kept telling herself that. She would keep her secret, and no one would find out. But everyone did know. There was a reason the streets were empty at night except for the reckless teenagers and the drunken adults. And there was the souled vampire, watching the helpless with dark, sullen eyes.

She didn’t feel his eyes tonight.

Her khaki skirt was too long for her tiny frame, and she rolled up the top so the hem was just above her knees. She couldn’t kick with a long skirt. There will be no ripped clothing tonight.

Her eyes fell upon the Bronze sign, and she turned towards it. Her feet moved her body towards the club in an almost trance-like stir. An automatic response. Her feet shuffled to the door and her hand was stamped with the cold black ink. The music was too loud for one o’clock in the morning. The college kids were out now, loudly partying and drinking. She searched for any of her friends, or at least anyone from her school, and found no one. Of course, they wouldn’t be out. It was a Monday night. Who was she kidding.

Buffy felt minuscule in the crowd, but the insecurity was gone with the knowledge that she could break anyone in the room. A smile was brought up at that thought. As always, the grin immediately vanished at the fact that all was ignoring her. A hypocritical thought, yes, but one that lingered. It lingered as often as her desire for low fat yogurt, although more painful.

She remembered how, in her old high school, the boys used to flock around her like flies around a discarded piece of meat. The boys ogled her, and the college boys flirted shamelessly a mix of cocky playboy and predatory animal. They craved a piece of her. But that wasn’t the case in the small town of Sunnydale. They were no longer impressed that she was from Los Angeles, and now, she was just the freak that hung out with the creepy librarian. It didn’t bother her as much now as it did two years ago.

Her ears perked up at the sound of a loud screech of a laugh. She recognized that laugh and a feeling of dread came with the identification. She searched the club and quickly found the owner of the cackle, amid the tall, bulky college men with their expensive sweaters and carpenter jeans. Their khakis and their cheap beers. Their stylishly gelled hair and their confident smirks.

She sat with her own wide grin, holding a red plastic cup that clashed with her lipstick. That huge grin that, while Buffy hated to admit it, lit up the room when it was genuine. Those long, bare legs, right crossed loosely over left as she sat on the stool at the round table. Her right foot bobbed absently with no intention of following the loud beats coming from the speakers. The crimson skirt she wore draped over her thighs loosely, the black tank top hugging her waist and breasts in the right places. Her smoky eye shadow complimented her eyes, and the ruby lipstick set off her full, ideal lips. Her chocolate locks were swept up off her face, stray pieces of hair falling around her cheeks perfectly.

She obviously hungered for attention.

The Slayer’s green eyes drifted down to her own clothes, messy and wrinkled from the ferocious fight earlier with a former linebacker who had been a vampire’s dinner roughly three days ago. Her blonde locks were a mess, and her hand flew up to pull a piece of grass above her brow. A pout came upon her face as she realized the grass had been in her hair for the entire time she had been in the club. A short time, but long enough for half the crowd to see her.

As if she needed more ridicule. There was slight consolation in the reality that half of them will be dead at the end of the year. The Slayer can’t be everywhere at the same time. The smirk was back.

She frowned a bit, her eyes remaining on the cheerleader still in the middle of the strapping men. She looked so cheerful and vivacious and nearly seductive. The verity that she was in the hospital for three weeks getting stitches upon stitches to fix the two-inch hole in her stomach was hidden well. The enormous smile was back, accompanied by the hysterical laughter.

Buffy was jealous.

Deep inside, she knew she was being stupid. She had no reason to be. She was special and unique while Cordelia Chase was trapped in conformity. The cheerleader was ensnared in the hopeless idea of fitting into a mold that changed and shifted for each individual who finally got into the mix. But Buffy, Buffy was the Slayer. The Chosen One. She answered to no one. But she wanted to. Her stomach growled in hunger and she tried to force it back.

Buffy blinked, and Cordelia was gone. She blinked several more times- rapidly, as if the brisk blinks would bring the cheerleader back into her line of vision. It didn’t. Another pout came upon her face and she searched the room. She caught the slender back of Cordelia as she began to exit the club through the back.

And like a puppy, she followed.

She pushed through the crowd, ignoring the stares of annoyance darting in her way. She knew she looked more like a twelve-year old than ever at that point, her five-foot-two frame being buried within the six-foot-three hard bodies. She began to resort to force; her solid shoves sending the men into the tables. She ignored the angry, shocked stares now.

The cool wind hit her face as she threw open the heavy metal door, running into the alleyway. She looked left, then right and found the cheerleader walking briskly to the open street. The Slayer broke into a jog.

“Hey-” She called meekly, immediately flinching at the squeaky sound of her voice. She was hoping for a light, casual tone, and she ended up in Willow territory.

Cordelia halted in her tracks so abruptly, her body tilted forward. Obviously, her feet and mind hadn’t informed the rest of her body that they were stopping. She turned her head in Buffy’s direction as slowly as possible. “Summers.” She greeted curtly.

She stopped in front of Cordelia, inhaling slowly. That one word of regard had managed to bring down her ego several notches, and it was enough to make her stomach tighten in apprehension. “Hi?” She had become a dork.

The cheerleader’s left hand rose and rested on her hip. She cocked her head to the right, staring at the Slayer icily. “Did you get lost?”

“N-No.” She felt like slapping herself. A simple stare made her want to throw up, and the immense hunger in her forced a weird feeling in her body. She straightened up, taking the stake out of her pocket. The taller girl’s eyes widened. “Went patrolling, got bored, decided to...you look nice. All things considered.” Cordelia’s mouth puckered up tightly as a glare crossed her features. It was time to backtrack. “I-I mean...how are you.”

“Fine. Are we done being civil?”

“I guess so...bitch.”

“Good. Freak.”

Buffy suddenly lunged forward, shoving Cordelia into the wall. The stake was flung out, flying through the air and connecting with the vampire that was planning to make Cordelia into a late night snack. He erupted into dust as another appeared. Buffy was ready for him, delivering a roundhouse, her foot smacking into his jaw. He grabbed her leg, flinging her into the row of garbage cans.

She still hungered for low fat yogurt.

“Cordelia! The stake!”

The cheerleader stood pinned against the wall, a look of fear on her face.

“Cordelia!” The Slayer scrambled to her feet, only to be thrown back against the wall.

The shout of her name seemed to bring Cordelia out of her daze and she dashed towards the pile of ashes, scooping up the stake. She ran over to Buffy and the attacking vampire, the loud clacking of her heels giving her away.

The vampire spun around, knocking her into the ground. He fell on top of her as she screamed, the stake skittering out of her grasp, across the cement. Buffy blinked and dove over the two, clutching the stake in one move. She flipped to her feet and as the animal lowered his teeth to his prey’s neck, she lowered the stake.

Dust exploded above the cheerleader and she shut her eyes, her mouth crinkling up in disgust as old, gray ashes rained upon her. Her chest heaved as deep breaths escaped her body. Buffy shoved the back into her pocket, and bent down, grabbing the girl’s hair. She lifted her to her feet effortlessly, and the girl squeaked in pain.

“Jeeze, Buffy- brutal much? I just had my hair done.” She threw Buffy’s hand off, attempting to smooth out her hair. A look of exasperation filled her eyes as she realized the perfection was gone.

“You’re welcome.” Buffy muttered, trying to fix her own hair. She slowly looked at the cheerleader and saw it. The glint. Her mouth shut tightly, and she stared at the girl.

Cordelia blinked, and the glint was gone from her eyes. Her mouth twisted into a sneer as she glared at Buffy. “What?” She snapped, her head rising high. “See something you like, Slayer?”

Buffy’s forehead furrowed as she glared at the cheerleader. Her body turned to walk away from the fire that resided in the girl’s eyes, then froze. She lunged forward once more, shoving her into the wall.

Cordelia yelped as she hit the wall, and Buffy’s hand covered her mouth before she could make another sound. White against brown. Buffy’s pale hand struck out against Cordelia’s perfectly tanned skin, and she stared at the mix for several seconds before pushing her palm against the cheerleader’s mouth firmly. Cordelia’s hazel eyes widened, catching Buffy’s green ones. A squeak escaped through Buffy’s hand, and she tightened her hand around the girl’s mouth.

“Say thank you.” Buffy whispered firmly. The hunger was burning up inside her now.

The cheerleader’s surprised expression fixed into a defiant one. Buffy shook her head, pushing her hand forward, sending Cordelia’s head against the wall. Her body moved, pressing against Cordelia’s. Another squeak escaped her, then a huff. An excited glint played in her eyes, and her teeth were clenched- a brilliantly orgasmic expression.

“Say it.” Buffy insisted, pressing her hand harder against Cordelia’s mouth. She felt her palm getting moist from Cordelia’s saliva, and she abruptly wondered if her tongue was touching her hand. She shook it off, glaring at the cheerleader. Her head moved forward, and her own lips brushed against the back of her hand. Right where Cordelia’s mouth would be without the barrier. The cheerleader knew it as well, and the glint was escorted by amusement. “Say it.”

Cordelia glared, her body tense. Her breathing quickened as she scowled less than an inch from Buffy’s face. Finally, she nodded. Buffy released the girl, but didn’t move back. Cordelia shoved her hair back, the action sending her elbow into Buffy’s shoulder. “Thanks.” She pushed Buffy aside, stomping past.

“What’s it like?” Buffy asked suddenly.

Cordelia stopped, spinning around. “What?”

“You...you know. That thing.” The cheerleader blinked blankly. Buffy frowned, and then shrugged. “The danger- do you feel, like, hungry? Faith always said-”

“I heard the story.” Cordelia interrupted, rolling her eyes. Her mouth warped into a frown, and she looked at the ground. “I don’t know, Summers.” A slight laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. “You’re such a freak, you know that?” She didn’t wait for an answer, spinning on her heels and running off.

Buffy tilted her head, watching Cordelia run to her corvette. Her eyes lowered to her hand, turning it palm-up. She stared at her white palm, the red mark blinding her. Cordelia’s lips imprinted on her hand in crimson.

She lifted her hand, placing her palm just in front of her lips. She stared at the lipstick, blurred. She finally puckered her own lips, placing her mouth on the lipstick. After a moment, she pulled her palm away, the lipstick now fuzzy on her hand.

A smile appeared on her face as she turned in the opposite direction towards her house. She had homework to finish.

And she craved some low fat yogurt.

FIN