Buffy/Cordy ficlet
Today I wrote a quick little Buffy/Cordy ficlet for glossing in cadence_k's Femslash Drabbleathon. Unbeta'd quickie.
Cordelia straightens a stack of flyers and flops into one of the library chairs, leans back and crosses her legs at the knee. She misses one day of school because of stupid Buffy and her stupid destiny and now she’s stuck doing the Business class project with her. At least she didn’t argue when Cordelia told her they were selling donuts; she’d been sure that Buffy would insist they, like, whittle stakes to sell or something. Or make cheap leather thong cross necklaces that were so hideous only Buffy would wear them. Or something.
They're in the library, stapling ordering sheets to their flyers, and they've been working in silence since Giles left. There’s a box of half-eaten donuts on the table (quality control, properly documented for full credit) right in the middle of the stacks of paper. It's quiet, which library duh, but Cordy can't help notice how loud the slam of Buffy’s stapler seems. She’s going at it with a vengeance, like the flyers are about to sprout fangs and go for her throat, and the noise is giving Cordy a headache. She wants to tell Buffy to give it a rest, but then that would mean that Cordy would have to take over to finish, or worse, actually spend another night in the library with Buffy Summers and no matter how good her breasts look in that v-neck. . .
Huh.
Cordy sits up a little straighter and gives Buffy a once over. She’s grudgingly noticed that Buffy’s pretty, in her own way, before-it’s why she played Welcome Wagon on Buffy’s first day of school, before she figured out Buffy was the long lost queen of loserville. Since then she’s been more focused on Buffy’s less attractive qualities, but now that they’re alone and the late afternoon sun is making her skin look creamy and her hair shine almost as brightly as Cordy’s own, she can’t help seeing the diamond hidden in the rough.
A whole lotta rough.
But there’s definitely some sparkle. She’s wearing her hair up, in that messy knot thing, and it actually looks good. Except for the fringy bangs-the bangs were a huge mistake. But Cordy can ignore the bangs because forehead down is . . . good. Buffy’s skin looks warm in the waning light, softness from neck all the way to her chest. And Cordy has a good view of that chest, both because of the v-neck (which was so last year, but whatever) and also because Buffy is leaning over as she staples.
Buffy looks up just as Cordy’s eyes start to go lower. She quickly shifts her gaze to her manicure, curling her fingers to make a better show. No way does she ever want to get caught checking Buffy out.
“Thanks for all your help, Cordy,” Buffy says, her voice dry and sarcastic. Cordy glances up, arches her eyebrow, and stares until Buffy rolls her eyes and goes back to stapling.
It’s a look that works every.single.time.
Buffy has added three more flyer-order form combos to the finished stack when she suddenly yelps.
"Ouch!" Buffy's hand flies away from the stapler and she shakes it in the air, bouncing on her toes a little like the movements will stop the sting.
Cordy rolls her eyes. This is the "Chosen One"? Not for the first time she wonders who exactly does the choosing and where exactly they got certified or whatever. Cordy is so not impressed.
Except that she kinda is. Cordelia can't help noticing the way Buffy's breasts are bouncing right along with her toes, or the way her ass is flexing tight with each little upward bob. The cheerleader in Cordy is appreciative; the girl in her is getting a little hot.
"Let me see it, you big baby," she commands and she's a little surprised when Buffy approaches her, hopping up to sit on the table right in front of Cordelia's chair Of course she has to glare first, but Cordy figures it wouldn't be Buffy if not for the occasional wrinkle-inducing facial expressions.
Buffy sticks her index finger out at Cordy. "Vamp punches me in the face, no problem. Staples and paper cuts I can't handle," she says with a pout that plumps up her bottom lip.
Cordelia hopes there aren't any paper-cutty demons sitting under them in the Hellmouth or they are all doomed.
She leans forward and grips Buffy's thin wrist with one hand as she looks at the finger in question. There is a little indentation from the prick of the staple in the pad of her finger with a tiny bit of blood welling out. As she watches, the crimson blooms into a fat drop that balances between the circular grooves that mark Buffy's print, growing in a perfect sphere. Cordy's transfixed by it. . . the splash of red, blood, Slayer's blood and she knows that every vamp in town would kill to be where she is right now, Slayer bleeding and at her mercy. . .
Wonders if Angel ever sees her bleed and licks her clean. . .
Before she can think about how ewwww it is, Cordy pulls Buffy's hand to her mouth and wraps her mouth around Buffy's finger. Buffy gasps, so close to Cordy's ear that she can feel the humid puff against the shell. It sends a shiver down Cordy's spine and she closes her eyes, waiting for her to pull away, but she doesn't so Cordy flicks her tongue to catch the bead of blood.
It's warm and tastes like a penny that's been glazed, sweet and thick on her tongue and it takes Cordy a second to remember that the sticky sweetness is probably from the donut Buffy had been eating earlier.
She wonders if Buffy's lips would still taste like it, decides to find out. She can always blame it on a spell, or Hellmouth mojo, or something equally ridiculously possible in Sunnydale later.
Cordy pulls Buffy’s finger out of her mouth with a little wet pop and drops her hand, then tips her face up to look at Buffy.
“All better now,” she purrs, a little smile quirking up her mouth and she’s surprised at how close Buffy’s face is to hers. Just a little tilt to the side, and Cordy could kiss her.
So she does.
Buffy jumps a little when Cordy’s lips skate across hers but instead of pulling away leans further down. Cordy bites back a smile and concentrates on the kiss, on the pressure of her mouth on Buffy’s, on the feeling of her tongue gliding across Buffy’s pouty lower lip, on the warmth of her mouth when Buffy’s lips part and their tongues meet for the first time. And Cordy’s surprised at how well Buffy kisses, the perfect amount of wet, just the right pressure and glide and their teeth don’t meet once. In fact, no teeth involved at all until Cordy nibbles at Buffy’s lip, intent on tasting her as thoroughly as possible.
Sticky gloss and traces of sticky glaze and Cordy’s always liked the way girls taste better than boys but Buffy is the best. Warm and sweet and god Cordy wants to find out if Buffy tastes like this everywhere.
Cordy reluctantly pulls away, before she does something she’ll regret. There’s only so much the spell excuse could explain and she doesn’t think it’ll cover how she knows how to go down on a girl. There are certain skills one cannot hide and Cordy’s never been good at the modesty thing. And anyway, she’s pretty sure that Buffy’s just suffering from like, blood loss or something. Any second she would have freaked out about Cordy kissing her.
Buffy’s eyes are half closed and she’s breathing in quick, soft puffs. It takes her a moment to orient and then she laughs, breathy and low.
Cordy’s about to put her “ohmygod, did you do a love spell on me you freak” routine when Buffy slips from the table and into Cordy’s lap, straddling her thighs.
Then Buffy’s lips are descending on hers and Cordy decides to worry about making up a good excuse later.
And the Johari (?) Meme: http://kevan.org/johari?name=marenfic
Cordelia straightens a stack of flyers and flops into one of the library chairs, leans back and crosses her legs at the knee. She misses one day of school because of stupid Buffy and her stupid destiny and now she’s stuck doing the Business class project with her. At least she didn’t argue when Cordelia told her they were selling donuts; she’d been sure that Buffy would insist they, like, whittle stakes to sell or something. Or make cheap leather thong cross necklaces that were so hideous only Buffy would wear them. Or something.
They're in the library, stapling ordering sheets to their flyers, and they've been working in silence since Giles left. There’s a box of half-eaten donuts on the table (quality control, properly documented for full credit) right in the middle of the stacks of paper. It's quiet, which library duh, but Cordy can't help notice how loud the slam of Buffy’s stapler seems. She’s going at it with a vengeance, like the flyers are about to sprout fangs and go for her throat, and the noise is giving Cordy a headache. She wants to tell Buffy to give it a rest, but then that would mean that Cordy would have to take over to finish, or worse, actually spend another night in the library with Buffy Summers and no matter how good her breasts look in that v-neck. . .
Huh.
Cordy sits up a little straighter and gives Buffy a once over. She’s grudgingly noticed that Buffy’s pretty, in her own way, before-it’s why she played Welcome Wagon on Buffy’s first day of school, before she figured out Buffy was the long lost queen of loserville. Since then she’s been more focused on Buffy’s less attractive qualities, but now that they’re alone and the late afternoon sun is making her skin look creamy and her hair shine almost as brightly as Cordy’s own, she can’t help seeing the diamond hidden in the rough.
A whole lotta rough.
But there’s definitely some sparkle. She’s wearing her hair up, in that messy knot thing, and it actually looks good. Except for the fringy bangs-the bangs were a huge mistake. But Cordy can ignore the bangs because forehead down is . . . good. Buffy’s skin looks warm in the waning light, softness from neck all the way to her chest. And Cordy has a good view of that chest, both because of the v-neck (which was so last year, but whatever) and also because Buffy is leaning over as she staples.
Buffy looks up just as Cordy’s eyes start to go lower. She quickly shifts her gaze to her manicure, curling her fingers to make a better show. No way does she ever want to get caught checking Buffy out.
“Thanks for all your help, Cordy,” Buffy says, her voice dry and sarcastic. Cordy glances up, arches her eyebrow, and stares until Buffy rolls her eyes and goes back to stapling.
It’s a look that works every.single.time.
Buffy has added three more flyer-order form combos to the finished stack when she suddenly yelps.
"Ouch!" Buffy's hand flies away from the stapler and she shakes it in the air, bouncing on her toes a little like the movements will stop the sting.
Cordy rolls her eyes. This is the "Chosen One"? Not for the first time she wonders who exactly does the choosing and where exactly they got certified or whatever. Cordy is so not impressed.
Except that she kinda is. Cordelia can't help noticing the way Buffy's breasts are bouncing right along with her toes, or the way her ass is flexing tight with each little upward bob. The cheerleader in Cordy is appreciative; the girl in her is getting a little hot.
"Let me see it, you big baby," she commands and she's a little surprised when Buffy approaches her, hopping up to sit on the table right in front of Cordelia's chair Of course she has to glare first, but Cordy figures it wouldn't be Buffy if not for the occasional wrinkle-inducing facial expressions.
Buffy sticks her index finger out at Cordy. "Vamp punches me in the face, no problem. Staples and paper cuts I can't handle," she says with a pout that plumps up her bottom lip.
Cordelia hopes there aren't any paper-cutty demons sitting under them in the Hellmouth or they are all doomed.
She leans forward and grips Buffy's thin wrist with one hand as she looks at the finger in question. There is a little indentation from the prick of the staple in the pad of her finger with a tiny bit of blood welling out. As she watches, the crimson blooms into a fat drop that balances between the circular grooves that mark Buffy's print, growing in a perfect sphere. Cordy's transfixed by it. . . the splash of red, blood, Slayer's blood and she knows that every vamp in town would kill to be where she is right now, Slayer bleeding and at her mercy. . .
Wonders if Angel ever sees her bleed and licks her clean. . .
Before she can think about how ewwww it is, Cordy pulls Buffy's hand to her mouth and wraps her mouth around Buffy's finger. Buffy gasps, so close to Cordy's ear that she can feel the humid puff against the shell. It sends a shiver down Cordy's spine and she closes her eyes, waiting for her to pull away, but she doesn't so Cordy flicks her tongue to catch the bead of blood.
It's warm and tastes like a penny that's been glazed, sweet and thick on her tongue and it takes Cordy a second to remember that the sticky sweetness is probably from the donut Buffy had been eating earlier.
She wonders if Buffy's lips would still taste like it, decides to find out. She can always blame it on a spell, or Hellmouth mojo, or something equally ridiculously possible in Sunnydale later.
Cordy pulls Buffy’s finger out of her mouth with a little wet pop and drops her hand, then tips her face up to look at Buffy.
“All better now,” she purrs, a little smile quirking up her mouth and she’s surprised at how close Buffy’s face is to hers. Just a little tilt to the side, and Cordy could kiss her.
So she does.
Buffy jumps a little when Cordy’s lips skate across hers but instead of pulling away leans further down. Cordy bites back a smile and concentrates on the kiss, on the pressure of her mouth on Buffy’s, on the feeling of her tongue gliding across Buffy’s pouty lower lip, on the warmth of her mouth when Buffy’s lips part and their tongues meet for the first time. And Cordy’s surprised at how well Buffy kisses, the perfect amount of wet, just the right pressure and glide and their teeth don’t meet once. In fact, no teeth involved at all until Cordy nibbles at Buffy’s lip, intent on tasting her as thoroughly as possible.
Sticky gloss and traces of sticky glaze and Cordy’s always liked the way girls taste better than boys but Buffy is the best. Warm and sweet and god Cordy wants to find out if Buffy tastes like this everywhere.
Cordy reluctantly pulls away, before she does something she’ll regret. There’s only so much the spell excuse could explain and she doesn’t think it’ll cover how she knows how to go down on a girl. There are certain skills one cannot hide and Cordy’s never been good at the modesty thing. And anyway, she’s pretty sure that Buffy’s just suffering from like, blood loss or something. Any second she would have freaked out about Cordy kissing her.
Buffy’s eyes are half closed and she’s breathing in quick, soft puffs. It takes her a moment to orient and then she laughs, breathy and low.
Cordy’s about to put her “ohmygod, did you do a love spell on me you freak” routine when Buffy slips from the table and into Cordy’s lap, straddling her thighs.
Then Buffy’s lips are descending on hers and Cordy decides to worry about making up a good excuse later.
And the Johari (?) Meme: http://kevan.org/johari?name=marenfic