Title:Auld Lang Syne (or compelled to chick up other peoples fanfic)
Disclaimer: Characters originally created by Mr Whedon and then plot improved upon by Hotpoint. (until he put Faith in some weird love triangle with Wes and Illyria, grr)AN: this story was written a couple of months ago, when I asked Hotpoint, where is the sex? (I don't believe no one else was having any nookie apart from Illyria and Wesley for over a year) Where are the clothes descriptions? You know mate, a chapter like this.
New Years Eve, December 2003
The guests were resplendent in tuxes and evening gowns. The white clothed tables were groaning with the abundance of party food, the silver punch bowls were filled, champagne bottles stood in buckets of ice and there was even a melting ice sculpture of a giant rabbit.
“Why the hell a bunny? Did the caterers think it was freakin’ Easter?” Faith commented to Gunn as they stood in a dark corner drinking their beer.
“Word on the street, it was Eve’s revenge on Anya for giving her and Lorne a limited budget for Christmas bling to decorate the Hyperion, not that I get Eve’s beef the chick must be a Pagan.” Gunn shrugged, he noted Faith’s diminished level of beer in her bottle. He nodded towards the crowded dance floor. “Wanna get your groove thing on?”
“The Bee Gees?” Faith suppressed an internal shudder of revulsion; Lorne’s taste in music could be so fucking camp sometimes. “Sure thing, Chuck. Tis the season to spaz out after all, huh?” Faith possessed every confidence that no matter how crap the music she would never look retarded on the dance floor and Gunn was the kind of guy who wouldn’t either.
Slayer and vampire hunter took to the parquet together, twisting and turning. Faith pushed her hair back from her face with her strong bare arms in her trade mark invitation that promised Gunn the opportunity to get his hands in her boy shorts before the end of the night if the brother played his cards right.
“Your body temperature goes up when you look at her doing that pre-mating ritual with Gunn.” Illyria remarked clinically to Wesley as they perused the canapé tray proffered by a waiter.
“It does?” Wesley hadn’t seen Faith in an evening dress before and she looked bloody ravishing in basic low cut black satin, he was only human.
“And when you gaze at her.” Illyria thrust her canapé in the direction of a red silk clad Cordelia dancing closely with Robin Wood, cheek to cheek.
“Really?” Wesley thought the way Cordelia’s tight backless gown showed off her tattoo and at the same way didn’t look in any way cheap a feat only Queen C. could carry off. He supposed he had been imagining Cordy out of the garment come to think of it. He always would carry a slight candle for her.
“And when you were speaking to her, earlier.” Illyria chewed the oyster savory pastry including the tin foil container. She knew it irritated him and she knew she had him over a barrel.
“Fred?” Wesley gave a guilty start. Fred seemed more endowed up top than normal in her posh designer label (gone were the days when an impoverished Fred and Cordy used to buy dresses from boutiques, leave the tags in and return them the next day) and he’d merely been speculating if Fred wore a push up bra or gone all L.A. and got implants, and bugger yes, sprung, he’d been imagining doing a quality control check.
Illyria could be very scary to go out with sometimes.
“Your sister is kinda scary.” Connor handed Dawn a cup of punch. “She’s glaring at me like I’m gonna drug you, bone you and record it for U-tube.”
“Chill, Buffy Anne’s like glaring at me, because I borrowed her earrings with out asking and she’s just noticed.” Dawn smirked, finally a one on one conversation with Connor. Dawn had been angling for this tete a tete all night.
“They’re pretty, the turquoise matches your eyes.” Connor gave himself a round of internal applause for this smooth compliment.
Dawn blushed fetchingly and Connor stepped closer towards her.
Buffy could care less about Dawn and Connor right now, she was too busy trying to work out why the heck Spike was dancing with frickin’ Nina of all people or were-wolves.
Spike enjoyed pissing Angel off was the simple explanation; Nina was too tall to be his type. Everyone had types. Angel clearly was into intelligent blondes. Nina was boring the shite out of Spike rabbiting on about art. God, Angel was so bloody welcome to the skirt.
The evening wore on, much festive cheer was consumed, words were slurred, advances were risked and refusals made.
“No!” Cordelia smacked Robin’s exploring hand away from her ass. “I just… I’m not ready, sorry. I know I haven’t had sex for like a gazillion years it seems and you’re a complete hottie and you kiss like a dream but no.”
Robin leaned back against the wall of the corridor they’d come out into to ‘talk somewhere quieter’. “It’s fine Cordelia, kinda disappointing but I’m not about to drive off a cliff about it. And uh, what’s the stumbling block here?” Fortunately for Cordelia Robin could ignore the raging hard on in his pants and reach out to someone he’d grown to admire who was obviously in a great deal of emotional turmoil.
“Okay, how’s this for the root cause of freaking frigidity?” Cordelia drew a breath. “I’ve got knocked up two times with some kind of evil being after I’ve had sex, not to mention the time I got raped in the head and implanted with demon spawn! It’s like I’m some kind of natural surrogate Mom for evil and it freaks me out. And you’re the son of a slayer as well as being a stud muffin, so who knows what latent reproductive mystical forces would get triggered making love to you.”
“Well, when you put it that way: Teacher here, so I love kids, but demon spawn? Not big on the idea.” Robin offered Cordelia his arm. “Let’s go out and grab a coffee somewhere and see the New Year in, fully clothed and partaking of caffeine.”
“I guess they must be off to do the dirty, too.” Faith observed mistakenly to Gunn as the two emerged out into the corridor and spotted Cordelia and Robin’s retreating backs. “Kinda chilly to be screwin’ in the courtyard.”
“Must be something magical in the punch.” Gunn worried about that seriously for a second. He relaxed, you could get over paranoid about things in their line of work.
“So your room or mine?” Faith speculated as they ascended the lobby stairs to the bedroom level together.
“Mine, I can’t be assed getting dressed after we’ve finished knocking boots.” Gunn explained ungallantly, putting his arm around her waist.
“Hey, I let you put on clothes before I make you leave, you’ve no idea how I’ve emotionally grown since I got reformed.” Faith chuckled ruefully. She wasn’t that bad anymore, she even let Gunn sleep in her room until the next morning the last time they screwed.
“Ya so together.” Gunn mocked her, unlocking the door to his room.
“Don’t throw stones at me, bud. I’m not the one still cravin’ the ex.” Faith kicked her fancy shoes off, she’d borrowed them from a newbie slayer and they pinched.
“I’m getting over her.” Gunn denied, taking off his bow tie first.
“If you say so.” Faith smirked, unzipping the back of her dress. “Um, you got a clothes hanger?” Her dress she borrowed from Kennedy and only slayer balance had prevented Faith breaking her neck on the slightly too long hem this evening.
“Closet as opposed to the display cabinet of robots.” Gunn instructed, hopping as he removed his shoes and socks.
“I knew that.” Faith opened Gunn’s closet door and retrieved an empty coat hanger, placing her dress on it. “Christ, half yah duds got demon gore on ‘em.”
“Eve says the dry cleaners can’t remove the stains.” Gunn came over to hang up his jacket and pants.
“That’s why I’m into leather mostly.” Faith shared her practical wardrobe decision. She slid off her underwear and threw the discarded garment on a chair. “So top or bottom? New Years resolution for me, gonna offer you a choice in 2004.”
The problem with making love to Illyria, Wesley decided as his blue goddess lowered and raised herself above him on their double bed, moaning loudly, was wondering sometimes if it was all an act for her.
She had no reproductive internal organs; she altered her form to give herself external female genitalia. Was she in a way faking her orgasms? Why did she bother? Did Fred have a high sex drive? If you listened to Angelus she and Gunn shared a very healthy sex life before their split.
So was this how Fred made love? Was Illyria drawing on Fred’s memories? Did Wesley truly do anything for her or was she fulfilling what she thought he wanted?
Did he want this? Wesley feared sometimes he didn’t and it would be preferable to be inside an actual woman not a shell. But how could you break up with an obsessed goddess? It was part of the reason it took him so long to commit to her.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, so what would Illyria a goddess do to him if he ever betrayed her?
There was nothing as magical and beautiful as a first kiss. This was Dawn’s second kiss with a guy, it made her feel all shivery and tingly to have Connor’s arms wound possessively around her and his mouth seeking hers in sweet plunder, the scent of his aftershave tickling her nostrils like a heady drug. And like major bonus factor she wasn’t gonna have to stake him afterwards!
Connor rejoicing in the sensation of Dawn’s pert young breasts pushing against his white dress shirt, was thinking along similar lines. Dawn had her monk given memory firmly in place and wasn’t trying to get him to inseminate her to give life to an evil goddess. This was beautiful.
“Rock your world?” Gun checked with Faith as they lay sweaty on the floor together. He knotted the used condom and threw it in the trash basket.
“Didn’t suck.” Faith conceded graciously. Shit, this must be getting up to the twentieth time or something they’d banged the gong.
Faith rolled away from him and sat up. “You think Wood and Cordelia are gonna be an item?”
“Who knows? Us crew at A.I. never had much luck in lurve. You into him?” Gunn raised himself off the carpet and got into bed. He watched Faith get dressed. She never stayed when they screwed in his room.
“Nah, yeah, it’s bizarre sorta.” Faith explained pulling her briefs back on. “See when I first met Wood we clicked real good. And he’s nice y’know? Different from everyone else.”
“Thanks, girl, glad to hear I’m a son of a bitch.” Gunn threw a pillow at her in mock outrage.
“C’mon we’re just blowing off steam with each other.” Faith held no grudges about their secret random sexual encounters. Gunn loved Fred and she… wasn’t going to go there. “But Blue-stocking told me not to think about it. Said it all ended in tears for me and Wood, so I never followed it up with pretty boy.” But Faith wondered sometimes why Illyria had been so insistent she didn’t get with Wood.
Mommy issues aside and considering the B and D shit some of her previous lovers were into, (yeah, and okay she’d got off on at the time too, but not as much as she pretended) Faith honestly thought she could have coped with Robin’s problems. What would happen, they’d get married and have brats? Wicked unlikely. Or was it?
Illyria had strangely given Faith a whole pile of rubbers too on over hearing Faith say to Cordelia she never liked taking the pill because it caused her to break out in zits. What the fuck did Smurfette care about Faith’s birth control habits?
Faith decided that Illyria was just trying to be a gal pal in her own weird way. Faith always was gullible when seeming friendship was offered, underneath the street smarts.
Faith blew Gunn an impudent kiss as she left his room. “Don’t forget to take a garlic pill, I don’t wanna hear that prick Spike yack on about us bangin’.”
“I was gonna remind you.” Gunn and Faith were mutually delighted to discover they could keep their sex life secret from prurient vampires as long as they ingested regular quantities of garlic. It threw a vampire’s sense of smell off.