Kiss with a Fist, Buffy/Faith for PornBattle XI
For agirlnamedtruth who wanted Buffy/Faith, workout
Title: Kiss With a Fist
Setting: Season three
Title and lyrics from Florence + The Machine
Posted at AO3 HERE and on the LJ PornBattle comment post HERE.
my black eye casts no shadow
your red eye sees no pain
your slaps don't stick
your kicks don't hit
so we remain the same
It wasn’t the first time their training ends with one of them naked on the training floor mats, sweat slicking their bodies, smudges of white hand chalk sticking to arms, calves, sides. It wasn’t the first time Faith’s teeth and tongue open the cut her fist moments earlier kissed to Buffy’s mouth, bruises fading with superhealing while the taste of Buffy’s blood still coats Faith’s lips. Gunmetal and cinnamon.
Faith likes it rough but Buffy not so much, and she leads this dance, this fight. Buffy rolls her onto her back, knees bent, rubbing her, flexing her fingers. Faith feels her fist deep, blue eyes gone cobalt and unfocused. Sometimes Faith wonders if Buffy is thinking of Angel as they fucked, the distance in her eyes deep and echoing. Then Buffy shifts, putting her body behind her thrusts and oh, fuck, the delicate bones in Buffy’s fingers curling, deep, deeper, knuckles bumping, bruising her cervix, but good, oh so good, her thumb rocks her g-spot, deepest. And then her eyes focus and she smiles, perfect teeth and tongue and lips whisper, “That’s my girl,” and the fire she’d been building in Faith’s cunt catches a spark, reflects in Buffy’s face and Faith ignites.
Buffy disengages, retreats as Faith returns from orbit, body cooling. She slides off, sitting beside Faith, wiping her hands on her shorts. She stretches as Faith watches her, avoiding the other Slayer’s dark eyes. Buffy rotates her shoulders, rolls her neck. “You left marks,” She stares at the scratches on her shoulder blades, three strong lines, bloody feathered wings arching across her back, “Again.”
Faith ducks her head, mumbles, “Sorry,” and reaches for her top. But she isn’t, and Buffy’s not, so they clean up in silence, bare feet whispering secrets against the mats, speaking words neither girl knows, or dares to say out loud.
well love sticks sweat drips
break the lock if it don't fit
a kick in the teeth is good for some
a kiss with a fist is better than none
Title: Kiss With a Fist
Setting: Season three
Title and lyrics from Florence + The Machine
Posted at AO3 HERE and on the LJ PornBattle comment post HERE.
my black eye casts no shadow
your red eye sees no pain
your slaps don't stick
your kicks don't hit
so we remain the same
It wasn’t the first time their training ends with one of them naked on the training floor mats, sweat slicking their bodies, smudges of white hand chalk sticking to arms, calves, sides. It wasn’t the first time Faith’s teeth and tongue open the cut her fist moments earlier kissed to Buffy’s mouth, bruises fading with superhealing while the taste of Buffy’s blood still coats Faith’s lips. Gunmetal and cinnamon.
Faith likes it rough but Buffy not so much, and she leads this dance, this fight. Buffy rolls her onto her back, knees bent, rubbing her, flexing her fingers. Faith feels her fist deep, blue eyes gone cobalt and unfocused. Sometimes Faith wonders if Buffy is thinking of Angel as they fucked, the distance in her eyes deep and echoing. Then Buffy shifts, putting her body behind her thrusts and oh, fuck, the delicate bones in Buffy’s fingers curling, deep, deeper, knuckles bumping, bruising her cervix, but good, oh so good, her thumb rocks her g-spot, deepest. And then her eyes focus and she smiles, perfect teeth and tongue and lips whisper, “That’s my girl,” and the fire she’d been building in Faith’s cunt catches a spark, reflects in Buffy’s face and Faith ignites.
Buffy disengages, retreats as Faith returns from orbit, body cooling. She slides off, sitting beside Faith, wiping her hands on her shorts. She stretches as Faith watches her, avoiding the other Slayer’s dark eyes. Buffy rotates her shoulders, rolls her neck. “You left marks,” She stares at the scratches on her shoulder blades, three strong lines, bloody feathered wings arching across her back, “Again.”
Faith ducks her head, mumbles, “Sorry,” and reaches for her top. But she isn’t, and Buffy’s not, so they clean up in silence, bare feet whispering secrets against the mats, speaking words neither girl knows, or dares to say out loud.
well love sticks sweat drips
break the lock if it don't fit
a kick in the teeth is good for some
a kiss with a fist is better than none