Chapter Eight

If you asked me to list ten ways that I thought I’d be spending that summer, shacking up with Buffy probably wouldn’t have been on my list. I mean, yeah, it’s what I wanted to happen, but I’m used to not getting what I want.

Maybe some things are too good to be true, but at the time? Man, it seemed so fuckin perfect.

Shortly after graduation, Xander decided that he wanted to travel. He packed up his beat-up old truck and took off for about eight weeks, driving as far as his gas money could take him. I think he was trying to find some kind of direction in his seemingly directionless life.

Hey, I can relate.

Willow, on the other hand, got pretty wrapped up in her relationship with Oz. I guess that after she finally had sex with the guy she realized what she’d been missing all those years. I’m pretty sure that most of their summer was spent shacked up in his bedroom, which was, of course, fine by me.

Not that I didn’t like Red, cos I did. I do. She’s a cool girl and all, but . . . even though she didn’t know it, she was pretty much the biggest factor in why B didn’t want people to know about us.

After years of being ‘good Buffy’, she didn’t want to seem flawed or wrong in the eyes of her best friend. I guess I can understand that. I mean . . . B’s probably the closest thing to a best friend that I’ve ever had, and I’d never want her to see my flaws.

Trust me, I have many.

But I’m not here to tell ya about my flaws. It’d take up too much of your time.

As I was saying, B’s two main distractions, Red and Xander, were pretty much outta the picture. Angel was in L.A. Her Ma was working lots of over-time, tryin’ to save up money to pay for her college. Giles was around but he had his own stuff to take care of. Yunno, boring bookish kinda stuff.

Anyhow, that pretty much left me and B to ourselves.

So not complaining.

I don’t think I’ve ever been closer to another person in my life. Physically and emotionally. It was kinda new territory for me, and I had to learn as I went, but . . . well, folks, it was a bona fide relationship. First one I ever had.

And it pretty much turned me into a big fuckin sap. I can’t really say that I was pussy-whipped cos B had me wrapped around her little finger long before I ever got to taste her. Still, you get the idea.

We spent pretty much every night together. We spent so much time together, in fact, that I decided to get outta that dingy old motel. My B was too good for that. I needed someplace new and fresh that was worthy of her and that didn’t make me too ashamed to smuggle her back to every night.

But see, apartments aren’t exactly free, as I had to learn the hard way. I had to get all responsible and stuff. I got a job at the Bronze, working wherever they needed me. Bartending, waiting tables, security, settin’ up musical instruments for the bands, etc. The manager had a sweet spot for me so he gave me more money per hour than I deserved, and I got tips some nights too.

I found a decent apartment in downtown SunnyD and with Giles as a co-signer, I moved in the beginning of July. It wasn’t spectacular or anything, but it was home. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen, a full bathroom, living room, a loft . . . but most importantly, it had B. It was more than I ever needed.

So, as I was sayin, B and I spent most of our days together. Most nights, too. She didn’t lie to her Ma about where she was sleeping either. I guess that Mrs. S figured that since her two best friends were temporarily outta the picture, I’d be serving as the new distraction. Besides, she was outta town on business a lot and didn’t want B to be alone.

I was kinda surprised how natural my relationship with B came along. It was like she didn’t even care that we were pretty unconventional. Seeing as how strait-laced she was, I was pretty sure that she’d freak out after that first night we had sex . . . but she was really casual about it. Comfortable even. A lot of our communication was done through silence . . . a glance, a touch . . . we just seemed to fit perfectly together.

We also laughed a lot. One time after I had chased her around the apartment until we collapsed in a fit of giggles onto the bed, I asked her how I ever got so lucky to end up with her. Her response?

“Because no one else answered my personal ad: ‘Single Slayer seeks Same. Must enjoy moonlit strolls through the cemetery and candle-lit rituals’.”

My girl. So witty. You better believe that I gave it to her good after that.

I guess that you’re probably wondering what our sex-life was like.

Well, a true lady reveals nothing.

Then again, I ain’t no fuckin lady. I’m a sex-machine. Faith, the sex-bot. That’s me. So . . .

Sex with B was fuckin awesome. She was a really quick learner and an incredible student. I’d like to think that I taught her everything she knows about pussy . . . but then I remember that she’s had one her whole life and pretty much knows how it works. I was just her practice-dummy. Not that I minded of course.

I really didn’t mind.

I think maybe that the thought of it did freak her out for about the first week or so, but she got over it when she realized how good things could be.

How good we were together.

We snuggled a lot. At her request, of course. But it’s not like I minded. In fact, she turned me into a closet snuggler. I’d get all kindsa cranky if I didn’t get my daily Buffy-snuggles.

But see, being that close in proximity to her got me all worked up, too. To feel her heart beating against my chest or back. Her breath tickling my neck. Her warm skin pressed up against mine. If she was a drink, she’d be called a Horny-Maker and she’d be completely intoxicating. And addicting. ‘One taste and you’ll be coming back for more’.

Basically, this is how it would go: We’d be sittin’ on my new queen-sized bed watchin TV. Sure, we coulda stayed in the living room and done the same thing, but . . . the bedroom was kinda our safe-haven. It was special . . . just for us.

Most of the time I’d sit with my back up against the back wall and she’d settle in-between my legs, her back against my chest and her head resting on my shoulder. I’d always be really warm, especially with her body against me, but she’d insist that she was cold and pull the comforter up around us.

We were the perfect little ‘Fuffy Cocoon’, as she liked to call it.

But like I said, being that close to her just does somethin’ to me. Always has. Only, I was finally able to act on my urges after our little revelation on Graduation day.

I’d try to behave as long as I could. B would undoubtedly be wrapped up in some kinda girly movie that she was making me watch. So, I’d start small. Yunno, wrap my arms around her stomach a little bit tighter. Squeeze them a little ‘til I saw the corners of her mouth crack up a bit in the teeniest of smiles. Give her a little kiss on the shoulder.

Then she’d mess up though, cos she’d make that little ‘mmm’ sound in the back of her throat. It was a simple little sound. A single syllable of appreciation or contentment. I, for one, certainly appreciated it. It made me even hotter for her. There was no turning back at that point.

I’d slowly drag my lips from her shoulder to her neck, kissing really gently along the way. I wouldn’t do it too hard, cos if I did it would drag her out of her little daze and she’d probably try to stop me and make me watch the movie.

Finally, my lips would get to her neck and I’d be really turned on by that point, see, cos that’s where most of the Buffy-smell is located. It’s where I can smell her hair and her skin all at the same time . . . a perfect combination of jasmine and vanilla and . . . something else. I think I finally found out what the secret ingredient was in her scent. It was like she added a little bit of ‘delicious’ to her patented mix of lotions and sprays.

Softly, I’d start to suck on her neck at just about the same time that my left had would creep up under her t-shirt and start to massage her breast. By that point, she’d know what I was gettin’ up to, but she’d be pretty powerless to stop me.

Powerless, you ask?

Yeah, powerless.

Why, you ask?

Well, that’s simple. Right as I’d be sucking and licking at her pulse point and toying with her nipple, I’d slide my right hand under the waist of her panties and start to tickle at the spot just above her hairless pussy.

Her response was the same every time. She’d turn her face slightly towards me, just enough so that she could see me out of the corner of her eye if she tried. But, she wouldn’t take her eyes off the TV. It was a game . . . tryin to see who would give in first . . . either her to call out my name or stop me or somethin’, or me to flip her over and fuck her properly. Then her breath would start to pick up and her lips would part, just enough so that she was blowing warm puffs of air on the side of my face.

Yeah, she knew what she was doing. She’s a fuckin temptress, she is.

After a few seconds of getting not nearly close enough to her clit, I’d finally stop my teasing and slide my hand down that extra couple of inches and give it a nice quick flick. Just one or two flicks. Just enough to make her breath catch in her throat and her back arch a little.

I’d keep my eyes on the TV as I’d slipp my fingers through her slick folds, gettin’ them nice and wet from her juices. I’d tease around her hole for a minute or two, not fuckin’ her but just lettin the tip of one of my fingers enter her every now and then.

It made her all kindsa hot. I could tell by the way that she’d wriggle around ever-so-slightly against my body.

But she wouldn’t give in. She wouldn’t cry out for me to fuck her or rub harder or faster. Nope. Neither of us would say a word. We’d just feed off of the silence between us.

Then I’d get to the point where I couldn’t hold back anymore. I was gonna win if it killed me.

Without warning, I’d glide my fingers back up through her wetness and search out her clit, instantly starting to slip over it. There was no sense in going slow. We got to do slow all night long. This was about just being together, and casually at that. No neon signs, no fireworks. Just us.

Yep, just us. Oh, and my intense desire to get her screamin’ out my name.

I’m selfish like that. If I’m gonna make her come, she’s gonna scream for me.

It’s the courteous thing to do, after all.

Her clit would basically be calling out for attention by that time, all swollen and sensitive and hard. I’d slide my fingers around and across it, fast, hard, repeatedly. There was no letting up on it or givin’ her a chance to catch her breath. There are no time-outs in sex. At least, not in the kind of sex I have.

She’d be moving against my hand, tryin’ to keep it right where it was, pushing against it harder. I’d keep teasing her nipple, pinching it a few times and cupping her whole breast in my hand, pulling her back against my body.

Then her breath would start coming out in short gasps, and she’d be moaning and groaning in the back of her throat, tryin’ to keep from crying out in pleasure.

Have I mentioned that I’m fuckin GOOD in the sack?

Yeah, I probably mentioned it once or a hundred times. What can I say? I know what I know, and fucking just happens to be one of my three specialties, slaying and ‘making love’ being the other two. Yeah, B helped me with that last one. I loved her silly.

But back to my hand in her panties and her coming against it. I won’t pretend that you’re interested in anything but that. I’m not completely stupid.

Her breathing would be picking up and that’s when it would happen: She’d bite down on her bottom lip to keep from callin’ out.

That’s also when I’d take my eyes off the TV and start watchin’ her face. I’ll tell ya, there is NOTHING sexier than watching Buffy come. Her eyes kinda close half way, and she scrunches up her face a little. If her teeth weren’t so busy biting into her lower lip, they’d be clenched together and her lips would be parted, allowing the sexiest little noises to escape her mouth.

Kinda like, ‘ngghh’ and ‘mpffh’ and ‘ahhh’ and ‘mmmhhh’ and ‘ohgodohgodohgodohgod’.

That last one was kinda one of my favorites.

Still, my number one favorite had to be ‘Faithhhhhh’, which I’d have her incredibly close to callin’ out at that point in time.

I’d know how close she was by the way she was pumping her hips, and I’d know how close I was to winning. So I’d get a little bit mean.

I’d slow down my fingers to a gentle caress, slowly circling her clit but not really touching it.

She knew what I was doing. I knew what I was doing. Fuck, the people on the TV probably knew what I was doing.

Finally, she’d give in.

“Faith, please,” she’d whisper. Almost like if she whispered it, it wasn’t losing.

“Please what, B?” I’d ask coyly, bringing my mouth up to her ear so my breath tickled it. I’d press my fingers into her hard little clit real quick before softly circling around it again.

“Ngghhh!” That sound, oh god, that sound! “Make me come,” she’d reply, her voice shaky and hoarse.

Her wish was my command.

I’m not a complete sadist, yunno. All she had to do was ask in the first place.

I’d slide my fingers across her clit again, fast and hard and with determination. The sound of her wetness would fill up the room, even over the soft voices of the TV.

B’s a pretty bendy girl . . . she’d somehow manage to twist enough so that she was kissing me sloppily on the mouth, her tongue bumping up against my teeth and lips. Hey, you try kissing from that angle with your hand in your girls’ panties and see how neat it is. I can guarantee that you’ll end up with a nice little trail of saliva around your mouth.

She’d finally come with my fingers rubbing across her sensitive clit, moaning my name against my lips. I think I may have partial hearing loss in both of my ears from her. Not that I’m complaining or anything. It was wicked hot.

Her body would tense up as she rode out her orgasm, my fingers slowing down a little bit and becoming gentler as the shudders passed through her body. When she finally stopped quaking, I’d pull my hand up out of her panties and lower my other hand from her breast, wrapping them again across her midsection.

Even though we were already impossibly close, I’d pull her even tighter against me, slumping us back against the wall. Neither one of us would speak until her breathing had evened out.

“I love you, baby,” I’d say, kissing her temple, both of our eyes back on the TV as we smiled softly.

“I love you too,” she’d reply, wrapping her arms over mine.

I’d sigh contentedly and continue watching the movie with her, commenting on the general crappiness of it.

“B, why are we watching this? Freddie Prinze, Jr. is such a bad actor. Couldn’t we watch Aliens or Bride of Chucky or something?” I’d whine a little.

“Shh,” she’d answer, nudging me a little in the ribs and trying to hide her smile.

We’d lay there as late as we could, basking in the afterglow until life would come in and sweep us away. Slaying, work, family, friends. Something would always come in to break up our day. But it didn’t really matter to me, cos I knew that I had her every day anyways.

That was only one aspect of our sex-life: our little midday romp.

There was also the morning sex, and the pre-slayage or pre-work sex. Then there was the bed-time sex. Oh! And sometimes, middle-of-the-night sex, too. No, it wasn’t all in one day. Some days we just spent cuddling or snuggling.

Even then, though, when life would get in the way, we still found time for each other. I’d go to work. She’d go out slaying. When she was finished, she’d come and visit me. I never failed to hook her up with free drinks or to sneak in a few dances with her during the night.

Every now and then Red and Oz would come in too. The boss would take pity on me and let me go sit with them for an hour or so and he’d even send us over some free drinks. Like I said, he had a sweet spot for me.

Well, that, and I think he saw me and B screwin’ on the pool table after I had closed up the place one night.

Fuck, if it meant that I got to spend more time with Buffy AND we got free drinks outta the deal, I didn’t mind if he took a sneaky-peek every now and again. As long as he didn’t ask to touch or join in, it was five-by-five in my book.

When Red and Oz would come to the club, B and I would act like we were just friends. Let me tell ya, it was a hard thing to do, man. My body was used to being near her and touching her. It would subconsciously try to do so.

One time, Red caught me when I was softly rubbing my hand on B’s back. B and I were so used to small stuff like that that we didn’t even realize that it looked out of the norm. Only when I glanced over at Red and saw her raised eyebrow did I realize the predicament that I was in.

My hand jumped a little and I startled B, and she finally realized that we were caught.

But smooth as ever, I saved the day.

“You got hair all over your back, B. Are ya shedding or something?” And I started to pick at her shirt like I was pulling strands of hair off of it. “Hey Oz-man, is it shedding season or something?” I asked, tryin’ to change the subject.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he answered with a little grin.

“He only gets shed-y right after the full moon,” Red said, turning to look at him with that goofy grin on her face. Fuck, they were so in love.

Crisis averted. The two of them started to coo at one another and B and I were in the clear. We gave each other a relieved look as we put a little bit of distance between us.

Yeah, it hurt that I couldn’t be with her the way that I wanted to, yunno, in public and all. It was damned hard to keep my hands off of her. But, I was willing to take her in any way that I could get her. If it meant keeping things on the down-low for a while, I was fine with it.

After an hour or so, I’d have to go back to work. I always made sure to keep an eye on B from behind the bar though cos I wasn’t about to let anyone mess with my girl. An hour or two after that, Red and Oz would finally say goodbye for the night. It was always perfect timing, cos I’d be gettin ready to close up the club and the crowd would slowly start to thin out.

B would watch me across the room, smilin’ at me and waving a little every time I looked over at her, which was pretty fuckin often. It never failed that some meathead would come up to her and try to get her to dance, but she’d politely say no thank you and go back to sipping her drink and watching me.

After I’d throw out the rest of the boozers and lock up the doors, I’d turn on the sound system in the club and have a few of my own personal dances with B. Not fast songs, cos we got to dance to plenty of them through the night. She liked the soft, soppy songs. Kinda like ‘Wonderful Tonight’ by Eric Clapton and ‘Groovy Kind of Love’ by Phil Collins.

That’s what we had. A groovy kind of love.

I tried to look past the general cheesiness of the song cos it had a good beat and made B dance just that much closer to me. Sometimes she’d cry a little into my shoulder cos she knew she had to go back to her own house that night, but I’d make sure to rub her back and tell her that I’d come over with McDonalds breakfast in the morning.

I was sure to tell her that she was strong and that she’d be able to get through the night, and then I’d try to convince myself of the same thing.

It was kinda scary to become so dependent on another person, but I guess that love just keeps ya from lookin’ at those kinda scary aspects.

We would walk back to her house hand-in-hand, sometimes rambling on about stupid stuff such as the merits of old-school Nintendo versus Playstation or the difference between Vanilla and French Vanilla ice cream. Sometimes I’d chase her around the park in the middle of the night and try to tickle her. And sometimes we were just quiet. To be honest, I kinda liked our quiet time. I think it was how we communicated best.

After givin’ her a big bear hug and a scorching kiss goodbye, I’d be walkin’ backwards down the walkway, keeping my eyes locked firmly on hers until I was at the sidewalk. She’d give me a little wave and blow me a kiss . . . and I’d lift up my shirt and flash her.

What, you thought I was gonna say that I’d pretend to catch it? Get real. I was whipped but I wasn’t completely lame.

With a devilish glint in my eye, I’d turn around and walk down the street, back to my apartment with a little hop in my step.

That summer fucking RULED, and I couldn’t help but think of how promising the future seemed.

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