Chapter Text
Maybe Faith hasn’t had the easiest adjustment to polite society. Polite society bein’ the world outside of her Boston slum upbringing, of course- she don’t quite understand the correct ways of socializing, of formin’ relationships in a healthy way. But she does know she’s got some kinda charm that lures people in, if only for a night or so. Bewitching , men have called her. Magnetizing , women have said. But that’s only the before, with her bedroom eyes and quirking eyebrow. The after-- not the morning after, she’s never let anyone stay that long-- is less... romanticized. Bewitching turns to stuck-up bitch, magnetizing turns to seductress, and Faith perfects the art of not giving a shit, smoking a cigarette and having them grab their clothes and get the hell out before she counts to ten.
Maggie has her hair in a long, loose braid that swings down to the small of her back. She’s got a cute laugh and pretty lips and has been lookin’ Faith’s way all night, and Faith’s starting to feel that itch under her skin after three shots, so she’ll bite. Maggie’s hands are soft. Her fingers are long and slender and tuck hair behind Faith’s ear. They go back to Faith’s room in record time.
Maggie’s beautiful when her back arches, when she tells Faith what she likes. Faith delivers on all fronts, and Maggie is loud, louder than the other girls. When she comes, she’s kinda looks like she just ran a marathon. Sitting up, hair having fallen out of her braid long ago, it falls around her shoulders and covers her breasts like a mermaid. Faith thinks if she were an artsy type’a girl, she’d want to paint her.
“You eat pussy way better than my boyfriend,” She says dreamily, as if that’s something Faith wants to hear, and Faith kicks her out before she even has the chance to fully rebutton her shirt.
It’s funny, except maybe it’s not funny at all, how she continues to let this happen. Fuck people she feels nothing for, who she don’t even want touchin’ her, just to try t’feel something for the twenty or so minutes they spend rolling around in her sheets. She thinks she likes the post-sex cigarette more than the act itself, the look on their faces as she tells them to beat it. She feels like the crazy stuck-up seductress they paint her as when she’s lounging there in her crumbles sheets and bralette, cigarette dangling from her lips. She thrives on the anger and confusion they feel, because even if she’s hurting herself, too, at least she’s the one in control.
Buffy Summers needs control, but in a different way, she’s noticed. She’s always been in control, outside’a the whole Chosen One thing. The Council had thrust the weight of the entire world on the girl before she’d learned to drive, but with that responsibility came the power to wield it how she wished. But, sometimes it could be too much. Making so many decisions, having everyone’s future in her hands.
They’re in Buffy’s bedroom, well, their sort-of shared bedroom, because although they’d begrudgingly accepted the arrangement with the limited space in their stupid little condo they’re sharing with all the Slayerettes and Scoobies alike, Faith still usually crashes on the couch downstairs. But tonight things are different, tonight they’ve cracked the window because Vi shared some of her stash and Buffy had asked Faith for her help on rolling a blunt. Her cheeks had been pink, avoiding eye contact. Faith had given her a look, a stern ‘what makes you think I’d know how the hell to do that?’ before getting out her own rolling paper and getting a blunt ready for them within the next two minutes.
“I don’t know why you didn’t ask Wil or Vi,” Faith takes a hit, and when she speaks again, the smoke billows with her words. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”
“Dunno,” Buffy plucks it from her fingers, “You haven’t been around that often. Maybe I just wanted to see you.”
“You’d be the first,” She lays back on the duvet, against the pillows that aren’t exactly comfortable, but not as shitty at the motel bedspreads she was used to.
Buffy shrugs, doesn’t try to sugarcoat it, and Faith likes that.
“I don’t think this is going to get easier.” Buffy says after a beat, and Faith’s brow furrows.
“You’re barely coughin’, anymore. You’re doin’ great.”
Buffy stares at her for a moment, then looks to the blunt between her fingers, “No- not the smoking, Faith. I mean. This.” She gestures vaguely around them, “I’ve been pretending I know what I’m doing and what our next step is at every turn, but what are you supposed to do with a bunch of girls classified as runaways by the government and the knowledge that you’re supposed to, I don’t know, train them to be an army against the paranormal?”
Faith looks at the ceiling, taking a long hit as she absorbs the question. “Nothing. At least for the time being.”
“We can’t just do nothing-”
Faith rolls over onto her stomach, and in turn gets far closer to B than she usually would in a more sober setting. “I think you’ve forgotten what it’s like to relax. That’s what the kush is for.” She passes the blunt, burning lower, back to Buffy. “C’mon. You deserve some time off.”
She laughs, and when she shakes her head her hair frames her face in a way that makes Faith want to kiss her. It’s not hard for Buffy to do something that makes Faith want to kiss her, though. “I don’t know how.”
Faith brushes the blonde strands from her face, tucking them behind her ear and using the excuse to let her knuckles graze B’s skin. “Maybe I could teach you.”
Buffy’s eyes are kind of glassy, her smile hazy and confused. “Teach me, huh? What do you mean?”
Faith is propped up on her elbow, and since B’s laying on her back, their faces are inches apart, and Faith does something stupid she’s been holding back for four goddamned years.
Buffy’s lips are kinda dry, but when she slots her own against them they feel perfect. It’s a small kiss, nothin’ that she couldn’t explain away as a joke, except when she pulls away to look at B’s reaction, she clearly don’t think she’s kidding. “Faith…” Buffy says slowly, her green eyes trained on Faith’s mouth and god does it make Faith feel like the most powerful person on Earth.
“You’re stressed about all the Chosen One stuff, right?”
“...are you seriously asking me that?”
“I mean- what if we…” Faith starts toying with those pretty blonde locks, twirling them around her finger, “What if I could give you an… outlet?”
Buffy leans up and kisses her, and when her warm hand comes up to her cheek, butterflies have a goddamn orgy in her stomach. “Like this?” She asks against her lips, and now the butterflies ain’t the only ones who are horny.
“Yeah-- well, no, not entirely,” Faith pulls away slightly, “I mean, sure, I’ll kiss you ‘til you forget everything else, but,” Faith’s fingertip traces the bow of Buffy’s lips, “I could teach you a whole lot more than that. If you’re willing to be a good girl for me.”
Buffy’s eyes widen slightly, “Are you…- do you mean, like… dominating stuff?”
Faith doesn’t exactly meet her eye, trying to keep her gaze on Buffy’s mouth but her eyes dart up in a way she can’t help. She says slowly, “It means whatever you want it to mean.”
Buffy takes a moment to absorb the statement, and Faith is wondering how she can spin this as a joke, as something she hadn’t meant seriously, even if it’s clear she had. She doesn’t know whether to start framing it as a tease now or to tell Buffy all the reasons this could work, how clear it is B needs someone to take control from her and how willing Faith is to be that person.
“Would it just be a sex thing?” The words coming out of Buffy’s mouth make Faith’s cheeks heat, ‘cause it’s not as though she ever expected in the four years of harbouring this stupid fucking crush that it’d be so easy to actually do something about it. How had she let herself waste so much time when Buffy is laying here with her, asking her about their possible future sex life?
“Again, it’d be whatever you need it to be, B. It could be. But I was thinkin’...” She gestures vaguely around them, “In this room, when the door is closed, I show you how t’let go of everything out there. Don’t have to be just sex, but sex could be a part of it.”
Buffy nods. “I… okay.” And she shrugs, which ain’t exactly the response Faith expects when Buffy Summers agrees to be her submissive, but hey, Summers is anything but predictable.
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” She says, and her lips seem unable to suppress a smile. And Faith kisses that smile, and the room is hazy with smoke and the feeling like both of them can breathe freely they haven’t been able to in years.
They talk about it far more in depth, later. And they’re sober, which is unfortunate, because Faith Lehane hates being sober, but for the discussion of rules and limits and expectations in a dom/sub relationship, it’s probably important she isn’t trashed. The whole thing feels so… clinical, because in a true Buffy Summers fashion, she’s made a word document of things she wants, questions she has and things she wants to avoid.
“I read about some stuff on some shady websites,” Buffy says, quietly, because it’s nearing one in the morning and neither of them exactly wants the Slayerettes, Scoobies, or god forbid, Dawn, to hear their topic of conversation. “But from what I gathered, we just do what we want.”
Faith swallows, reading through the papers Buffy had handed her. Hearing her casual tone while reading them makes her head spin.
The following pet names are acceptable: baby girl, princess, etc.
Praise would be nice?
Spanking, hair pulling, and bondage are good, but a safe word (TBD) is needed for all of those.
No vampire roleplay.
Faith snorts at that last one, “Vamps don’t butter your biscuit anymore, huh? Good to know.”
Buffy rolls her eyes, “I need a list from you, too. I’d like to have things in writing.”
“Well,” Faith traces a fingertip over Buffy’s collarbone, “It’ll be no problem givin’ you praise if you’re good, princess,” she winks, “I’m not into any a’ that golden showers stuff, an’ that furry shit doesn’t get me hot, but outside of that I can’t think of anything I’m really against. We’ll have to learn that as we go along, huh?”
“Alright, then. What do you like to be called?”
Faith grins, “Call me miss. Or daddy. Unless a daddy kink is outta the question, but let’s be real, I think we’re both pretty strong candidates for that one.”
Buffy’s cheeks are a real pretty rosey pink, now, nodding silently.
“So, yes?” Faith teases, the pad of her thumb running over the woman’s lower lip.
“Yes,” Buffy says softly, and when she meets her eye, Faith’s insides tingle.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, daddy.”