Girls Just Want To Have Fun
"Hey," Faith says, casually, like they talk all the time, which they most definitely don't. "You going to the Bronze tonight?"
Cordelia gives her a haughty look. "Like there's anywhere else to go in this backwater town."
"It's not so bad," Faith says. She does something with her shoulders that might be a stretch or a shrug. Her hair is loose, and the tendrils framing her face are damp. If it were anyone else but Faith, Cordelia might think it was deliberate, but she knows it's not, because Faith doesn't care enough to put that kind of time into her appearance. Well, except where eyeliner is concerned, and she has a tendency to put on way too much of that.
It's kind of a shame, because Faith might actually be pretty if someone with the slightest bit of fashion sense took an interest in her.
"The Bronze? It's okay." Cordelia sighs and closes the book on the table in front of her.
"So, yeah? Tonight? We'll have fun." Faith looks hopeful, a little grin playing at the corners of her mouth, and Cordelia sighs again and nods.
She definitely doesn't spend any extra time getting ready that night. Why would she? It's not like she's trying to impress anyone. Heck, she doesn't even have to try -- she's the Queen C of Sunnydale, and they're lucky to have her. She's the biggest fish in this pond, and everyone knows it.
Except maybe Faith, and that's only because she's some kind of juvenile delinquent with delusions of popularity, which are going to be dashed as soon as she looks around and discovers she's hanging out with the totally wrong crowd. Seriously. Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg? Geez. Anyone with more than two brain cells to rub together would know better than to align themselves with those two.
Cordelia glides into the Bronze with a faint smile and her chin high, ignoring the peons that don't deserve even the faintest acknowledgment from someone of her status. That ought to include Faith, but Faith is out on the dance floor, dancing wildly to a beat Cordelia isn't sure is actually part of the music. Faith makes it looks like it is, though. She looks... good. Great, even, and Cordelia realizes she's been standing there staring for more than a minute and forces herself to look away.
A quick scan of the Bronze shows that it's clear of Scoobies, which is a relief. She's had enough of them for a lifetime. But that's when Faith spots her and lights up, comes running over and grabs onto her hand.
"There you are!" Faith says, and Cordelia pulls her hand away.
"Hello? No touching!" But she relents when Faith's expression goes from happy to uncertain -- not permanently or anything, just a quick flicker before the walls go up again. What the hell, self? It's not like she cares about hurting other people's feelings. She's the queen of hurting other people's feelings. "Fine, let's dance."
Out on the dance floor, Cordelia starts doing her own thing, casually sizing up a couple of the guys who are dancing closest to them, but they're too young. College guys are so much more mature, and she doesn't want to date anyone who doesn't have the maturity-- which is a code word for money -- to know how to treat a girl right. Of course, none of them know how to please their partner in bed anyway, though she has a faint hope that when she's older she might meet a guy who can do more than stick his dick in and pound away and think that's all it takes to get a woman off.
She turns her attention back to Faith, who's holding her hands up in the air and gyrating, hips making little circles. It's strangely sexy, the way she moves, and Cordelia is definitely aware that the guys around them are watching Faith, too. A warmth blossoms in Cordelia's thighs when she notices that Faith's nipples are hard beneath her thin shirt, which has slipped down off one shoulder to reveal a lacy bra strap. Who would have thought Faith would be into lace? Maybe she's not as obvious as Cordelia has assumed...
The music changes to something slower, the pulse of it like a heartbeat, steady, and Cordelia, caught up in it, doesn't step back when Faith moves in close. They dance together -- not touching, but almost. It's a new song, something Cordelia doesn't recognize, but as Faith grins at her and reaches out to put a hand on her waist, she feels like maybe it's familiar somehow. Which is stupid and crazy, but maybe, right then, being stupid and crazy is okay. It feels good, because she just stops caring about anything else -- what other people think of her, for one -- and is just there, in that moment, dancing with Faith, who smells spicy and salty and who is wearing dark red lipstick that Cordelia can easily imagine the taste of.
A second later, Faith is holding her hand, tugging her off the dance floor and into one of the darker corners of the Bronze, and Cordelia doesn't need to imagine the taste of Faith's lipstick, because they're kissing. Faith's lips are soft; she smells like sweat, which shouldn't be sexy but which, weirdly, is. And Cordelia's hands seem to have a mind of their own, because they aren't content to rest at Faith's waist, but instead slide their way up Faith's sides to her rounded breasts, and Faith laughs a little bit against Cordelia's lips.
"Knew you had it in you, Chase," Faith murmurs, fingers slipping underneath Cordelia's skirt, and it's fine, no one can see, can they? No one's paying any attention to them, because they're in the shadows and oh, God, Faith's fingertips have found the edge of Cordelia's very expensive Victoria's Secret panties and are touching her where no other girl has ever touched her before.
She's wet there, hot and slick, and she tenses when Faith rubs teasingly over her clit, tenses and moans and doesn't care that Faith's other hand has twisted itself into her hair, tilting her head so Faith can kiss her harder, can show her who's in control of this, and it's not Cordelia, oh, no. Everywhere else in her life, she's the one in control, but not here. Here, it's all Faith, and Faith is the one who's going to make her come with a strong thumb on her clit and two fingers slipped up inside her.
"Come on," Faith says, encouraging. "Come on, baby. You know you want to."
Cordelia is trembling, gasping. She does want to -- she wants to come, but she doesn't, because then this will be over. Faith licks into her mouth, and kisses her, and when Cordelia comes it's so powerful she can't breathe, can't do anything but clutch onto Faith and whimper as the waves roll over her.
When she opens her eyes, Faith is grinning at her. Slowly, Faith brings her hand to her mouth and sucks on her fingertips. "Told you we'd have fun," Faith says.
"Yeah," Cordelia says, still more than a little bit dazed. "That was fun."
She gives Faith a ride, because she has a car and Faith doesn't, and Cordelia knows she'll never hear the end of it from the gang if something happens to Faith on her way home.
"So where's your place again?" she asks as they pull out of the parking lot.
"What are you, nuts?" Faith says, disbelieving. "My place stinks. I want to sleep at your house."
There are a million reasons to refuse, but, strangely, Cordelia finds that she doesn't really want to. "Okay, fine," she says, sighing, but if she were being totally honest she'd admit that she's imagining Faith down between her spread thighs. "But you'd better not snore or hog the covers, or I'm totally kicking you out."