Fandom, Pairing & Prompt:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Giles/Faith, LastDisclaimer:
Just a bit of mucking about in other people’s sandboxes.Author’s Notes:
Written for The Porn Battle (Best of Three)
. Set at least 5 years after Season 7.
One last club and she’s done for the night.
The bouncer gives her a nod and waves her right in. Her kind, all cleavage and bedroom eyes, bring the men in and he knows it.
Her eyes sweep the crowd.
It’s late and a lot of people have already paired up, sealing deals over their last round that were inked in sweat and want on the dance floor.
Her eyes close as she concentrates on feeling
“Haven’t seen you around before…”
Her eyes snap open to find a typical club guy checking her out.
He’s like so many others in here – a few hundred dollars of clothes worn to look they came from a pile on the floor, teeth a little too white, hair a little too perfect.
She smiles – not wanting to burn any bridges before she’s sure of the situation.
Her eyes flick to the dance floor. She’s felt something from out there – but she can’t be sure.
“Yeah, okay,” she answers in a deliberately husky tone.
On the floor, he’s all business – rubbing the bulge in his jeans against her ass, pawing hands snaking up beneath her shirt, nibbling along her neck.
It would be suspicious behavior if she wasn’t complete sure he
wasn’t a vamp – just another sleazy guy looking to score.
They dance to a few songs and she manages to slip into a sort of autopilot, a former version of herself.
She’s running her hands through his hair, arching into his roaming hands, and grinding back against him.
Turns out it’s for nothing. Whatever she’d felt, it’s gone now. Nothing but drunk and horny humans in here.
She turns to face him, leaning close to shout. “I’d say it’s been fun – but it hasn’t. Have yourself a night.”
She’s outta there – out of the club, out of the city for the night – astride her rice-burner crotch rocket and racing for the London suburbs.
The townhouse is quiet and as she enters the master suite, she can hear the shower already running.
She pulls off the biker boots, the tight leather pants, the spandex shirt, her bra and underwear, leaving a trail of discards behind her.
He doesn’t hear her come in, doesn’t know she’s even there until she’s opened the shower door and slid in.
She’s too tired to talk – just wraps her arms around him and lays her head on his chest, ignoring the spray bouncing off her back and misting her face.
It gathers into fat, little droplets and runs off, nicely hiding the tears.
He just holds her, rubbing her back gently.
“Everywhere…It’s everywhere.” Even with the scalding water pouring over her, all she can feel is the slimey cold of a dozen men’s hands on her.
“Faith – you’re home. It’s okay.” She looks up and he kisses her – a deep and gentle kiss that helps a little.
She just stands there, trying not to shake as he runs a soapy washcloth over her.
“I can’t. I just can’t keep-”
But he shushes her, stilling her lips with his thumb so can wipe the waxy crimson stain from her lips.
The shivering has gotten a little better as he turns the water off and she manages to towel herself off, before letting herself be led to bed.
He slides in beside her and waits – watching for a signal.
Her head turns towards him and she reaches for him.
Their love-making is slow, almost methodical, and he’s careful to keep his hands moving, gliding over every inch of her he can reach.
She’s so quiet and when she comes, the only sign is a soft little sigh as she relaxes beneath him.
She lies there when it’s over, staring at the ceiling unmoving, her arms wrapped around herself.
“This was my last time.” The words drift out into the darkness, aimed at no one in particular.
He pulls her to him, running his fingers through her damp hair as she rests her head against his chest. “I know. The girls are more than old enough to take over the club patrols. No more.”
He should have realized the toll it was taking earlier, but it’s been busy – always is – and he let other things push it out of his mind.
“I’m done with the clubs, that costume. Burn it.” Her voice is thick with sleep and as she drifts off she mumbles, “Not that girl anymore.”
It surprises him sometimes, how somewhere along the way Faith became a grounded warrior and leader, and more than that – a woman, leaving the sex kitten ways and saucy quips behind like some girls abandoned pigtails and knee socks.
She’s not that girl – hasn’t been for a long time.
Sometimes Giles wonders if she ever really was.END.