"Isn't it funny how slaying always makes you hungry and horny?"

--Faith, from the BtVS episode "Faith, Hope, and Trick."

 Until Buffy, tired of contemplating her own mortality, broke the moment.  "You hungry?"

 "Starved," Faith answered, a little too quickly.

 They turned and walked away.

 Halfway down the alley, Buffy realized she was by herself.  "Faith?"  She spun around, stake at the ready, on the alert for any vampires they might have overlooked in the heat of battle.

 A faint, unsteady voice met her ears.  "H-h-here."

 There were no vampires anywhere to be seen.  No vamps, no demons, no creepy-crawlers, no foul and disgusting beasts spawned from the blackest and most pestilential pits of hell -- no monsters at all.  Just one human woman, huddled miserably against the wall and shaking uncontrollably, in the grip of a major panic attack.

 Buffy hurried to her side.  "Hey, hey, Faith, it's okay.  Shhh, everything's okay."

 "N-n-n-not.  It's not okay.  He -- he almost . . . I couldn't . . . we almost *died*!"

 "Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand-grenades.  We *didn't* die.  We're still here."

 "He came after me, and all I could see was my watcher's corpse, and . . . all the blood . . . ."  She shivered.  "I've never seen so much blood before."

 "Yeah, that's one good thing about slaying vampires," Buffy murmured.  "The clean-up factor.  No fuss, no mess -- just five minutes and a dustbuster, and you're ready to roll."

 Faith kept talking like she hadn't heard her -- which was just as well, Buffy thought.  "He had that same look in his eye he had when he killed my watcher, like he was really going to *enjoy* causing me pain.  I couldn't think, couldn't move -- couldn't fight back!"

 "Yeah, okay, I get that.  But you got through it in the end.  *You* killed *him*!  Now do you think you could stop wigging out on me?  This area's not secure.  Let's get back to my house; *then* you can freak out."

 For a moment, she thought Faith was going to hit her.  "You -- oh, shit!"  She laughed, then closed her eyes and took a deep, if shaky, breath.  "You're right.  Okay.  Just -- give me a minute."

 Buffy watched her new -- what?  Not quite friend.  Not yet, anyway -- and fidgeted impatiently.  Her system was still swimming with adrenaline from the fight, making her antsy and uneasy; she wanted to go, move, do something besides sitting here.  She eyed Faith, sending her psychic "hurry up" vibes.  Her fellow slayer was breathing hard, and her shirt was gaping forward, giving Buffy an unimpeded view of her breasts -- Faith, she noticed, was not wearing a bra.

 She stopped fidgeting.

 //Horny or hungry, huh?  Oh wow.  I think I'm in trouble.//

 When she looked up, Faith had finally pulled herself together, and was watching her with an amused and -- //was she?  Yes, she was// -- aroused look on her face.  She smiled, slowly and sensuously.

 Buffy shivered.

 "I lied, you know," the dark-haired woman said.

 "What?"

 "I'm not hungry."

 "Uh . . . "  Buffy never found out what she would have said, because at that moment Faith kissed her.

 And kissed her, and kissed her -- hot, hard, deep, and long.

 Her world narrowed until there was nothing but this: the pressure of her lips, the texture of her tongue (a fleeting thought, quickly repressed, about the strangeness of kissing someone without fangs), the sleek, muscular strength of her arms, and the feel of hands tangled in her hair.  And heat, the sheer, surprising heat that rose from Faith's living body in waves.  (Angel was never so warm, eternally several degrees cooler than a human body would be -- no, no, don't think about that now, *can't* think about that.)  Heat was good; heat was life.  She was alive, and Faith was alive -- that was truth, and the horrible, sickening certainty she had felt when the stake had gone in but the monster hadn't *died* was the lie -- tomorrow held no guarantees, but they were here now, and she reached out to that warmth, that promise of life, and held on to it with both hands.

 They finally had to separate to breathe.

 "Too bad," Buffy said, panting.

 "What?"

 "That you're not hungry," she clarified.  The words slipped out of their own volition, before she could call them back.  "It's too bad, 'cause you could have eaten *me*."

 Faith made a strange, inarticulate sound, and her eyes darkened.  "Is that an invitation?" she purred.

 Buffy spread her legs.  "Be my guest."

 The brunette pounced, mouth sucking, kissing, and nipping any patch of bare skin she could find while her hands made quick work of Buffy's clothing -- which Buffy cooperated enthusiastically in removing.  This was new and different and a little scary, but, God, it felt good!  When Faith's lips found the tip of her bare breast and began to suck, she nearly came right there.  "Christ!  Yes!"  She reached out with shaking hands and fumbled ineffectually with Faith's clothes.

 "Wait -- just a second --" her lover said and pulled away.  Buffy moaned in protest at the loss of contact.  "There."  And she was back, naked and beautiful.  Buffy cupped her breasts, learning the shape and weight of them, the way they fit into her hands.  She ran a thumb across the tightly peaked nipples, then grasped them firmly and tugged.  "Oh!"

 Buffy let go and slid her palms around to Faith's back, enjoying the play of her muscles as they moved under her hands.  Faith glanced up at her and grinned.  "And here I thought you needed to loosen up!"  She put her hand between Buffy's legs and slid a finger into the dripping wetness there.  "Sex in an alley, that's pretty kinky."

 Buffy's hips arched and thrust against the pistoning fingers.  "Well, I guess I found the fun," she gasped.

 "Guess what?"

 "What?"

 "I think I'm hungry after all."  She withdrew her hand and shifted until her head hovered just above Buffy's hot and aching center.  "I wonder how you taste?"

 She whimpered.  "Please!"

 Then Faith's mouth descended that last inch, and Buffy couldn't think coherently enough to form words anymore: with the flick of a tongue, her brain exploded in pure pleasure.

 When she came back to herself, Faith was licking her lips.  Her hand rested between her legs, her fingers stroking herself idly.  Buffy cocked an eyebrow.  "Starting this party without me?"

 "Hey, you're the one who conked out on me."

 "True enough," the slayer conceded, and reached for her.

 Neither of them was paying attention to anything but each other, so neither of them noticed the eyes watching them from the pile of crates nearby.  //Interesting,// thought the vampire, ex-servant of the recently-slain Master.  //I can use this.//

 He hesitated briefly, then withdrew.  //Let them have their fun.//

 He always liked playing with his food, himself.  It made the kill so much sweeter.

 Mr. Trick left, making plans as he went.
 

THE END

I know, I know -- I wrote Faith bra-less when she was, in fact, wearing a bra.  Had to be.  I certainly *hope* she was!  Running and fighting and bouncing up and down: do you know how much that would *hurt* if you weren't wearing a bra?  But this is fiction -- pornographic fiction at that -- and the laws of physics don't apply unless *I* say they do.