Title:Little Masochist

	Author: Faithtastic

	Email: inaneway@hotmail.com

	Summary: Sequel to 'Bittersweet Me.' Joyce visits Buffy on campus to 
	try to repair the rift in their relationship then seeks solace in 	
	Faith.

	Pairing(s): Faith/Joyce and implied Faith/Buffy. Oh, yes, it's *that* 	
	fucked up. There's also a smidgen of Buffy/Riley. Well, he *is* her 	
	boyfriend after all. ;)

	Rating: NC-17 for baaaad language and f/f slash. 

	Distribution: UCSL, JOYFFA, JustJoyce, Paradoxical F/F. Anywhere 
	else, take it! Just let me know so I can squeal about it to my 
	friends.

	Feedback: Go on. You will, you will, you will, you will, you will.

	Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, as you well know. I'm 
	just letting them have some fun, well, not fun. Okay, so I like 
	torturing them. I'm an evil, evil woman, what can I say?

	Notes: This is the fifth part of my 'Burning the Bridges' saga. The 
	preceding parts are, in order, 'Burning the Bridges,' 'My Favourite 
	Game,' 'The Flaw in the Plan,' and 'Bittersweet Me,' and can be found 
	on the fabulous UCSL, JOYFFA and Paradoxical F/F archives. The title 
	and lyrics are taken from the Tori Amos song, 'Hey, Jupiter' on the 
	Boys For Pele album. Also, it might be a while before the next part 
	is posted as I'll be away over the weekend at the London Mardi Gras.

	Website: All of my fics, montages and a bit of stuff about me can be 
	found on Dolores Labouchere's website 
	http://members.dencity.com/doloresl . Also, check out my new 
	Cordy/Faith site at http://www.hirsutialmatrix.fsnet.co.uk

	Random literary quote: "The human race, to which so many of my 
	readers belong." G. K. Chesterton, The Napoleon of Notting Hill.

****

Guess it's me and me/
and this little masochist/
she's ready to confess/
all the things that I never thought/
that she could feel/

 

Buffy rolled over as she slowly roused from sleep. She opened her 
eyes, warmed by the expanse of bare male back that filled her vision 
in all its broad shouldered glory. She'd called up Riley last night, 
as soon as she got back to the dorm, knowing that Willow would be 
staying over with her friend Tara. She needed to see him, feel him. 
She had to drive the image of Faith from her mind, Faith kissing her 
in the club then later that night kissing her mom. It was still so 
vivid in her mind. She'd gone after the other slayer, to apologise, 
to explain. She hadn't wanted to leave things like that between them. 
So she used her key to get in, she figured her mom would be in bed 
asleep. Instead, they were there, together, in Buffy's room. Kissing. 
More than that, her mom was touching Faith with familiarity. Like 
they'd done that before. So she ran. Riley had come over immediately, 
concerned by her call in the middle of the night. He'd believed the 
line she'd told him about being lonely. He was so trusting, so 
devoted. That's what she loved about him; he never questioned 
anything. His love was unconditional. 

With a sigh, Buffy got out of bed and grabbed a towel. As she did so, 
Riley awoke with a small groan. "Shower," she said with a smile and 
he nodded, returning it. 

It seemed almost as soon as she was gone there was a soft knock on 
the door. Throwing off the covers and pulling on his sweatpants, 
Riley padded towards the door and opened it. He rubbed the sleep from 
his eyes to see a tall woman with curly blonde hair standing there. 
She looked nervous and took in his appearance in one sweep of her 
steely blue eyes. "Is Buffy there?"

"Uh, she's in the shower," Riley blinked.

There was an awkward pause between them. Obviously he had no idea who 
she was. "I'm Joyce, Buffy's mother."

Riley stiffened, suddenly uncomfortable in his toplessness. "I'm 
Riley." He remembered his manners suddenly and held out his hand 
which Joyce shook demurely. "Pleased to meet you. Uh, come in. She's 
in the shower, she'll be back in a couple of minutes." He stepped out 
the way to allow Joyce in and quickly located his T-shirt which had 
somehow found its way on top of the TV set last night. His cheeks 
burned as he remembered the haste in which he and Buffy had shed 
their clothes. 

Joyce surveyed the room. She'd never seen Buffy's room on campus 
before. It was tidy at least, she noted with her critical mother's 
eye and tried to avoid focusing on the rumpled sheets. Riley did 
likewise. The silence was thick with awkwardness. "So..." Joyce began 
eventually when she could stand it no longer, "Buffy tells me you're 
a teacher's assistant."

"Yeah," Riley seized upon that conversation opener eagerly, "I was 
helping Doctor Walsh in Psych." He paused, frowning slightly. "Until 
she died, that is."

"I heard about that. How awful."

Just then they heard the door handle turning and Riley rushed to open 
it. Wearing only a towel, Buffy was met by the sight of Riley, now 
clothed. "Hey you," she murmured and pulled his head down for a long 
kiss. She reached for the hem of his T-shirt.

He quickly broke away, covering her hands gently with his own, his 
face pink with embarrassment. "Uh, Buffy... you're mom's here." 

The blonde's head snapped to the side to stare at her mother where 
she stood leaning against her closet. Her mom looked just as 
uncomfortable as Riley did. They were going to get on well, she 
thought ruefully, or they might have.

"Buffy..."

Buffy continued to stare, her eyes cold. "I don't wanna talk to you." 
She walked over to her dresser, replacing her toiletries.

Joyce gave Riley a pained smile. "Could I talk to Buffy alone, 
please?"

"Yeah, sure. Of course." He moved towards the door, knowing when he 
wasn't welcome.

"No, stay," Buffy said sharply and he stopped, glancing between the 
two blonde women, sensing that this was nothing to do with him. 

Joyce glared pleadingly at her daughter. He looked to Buffy. "I 
should go," Riley said. He *really* wanted to go.

"No," Buffy approached him and slung an arm around his waist. She 
stared at her mother in challenge. "Whatever she has to say, she can 
say it in front of you. We don't have any secrets from each other. 
Remember?"

"Okay," Riley replied slowly. There was some underlying conversation 
going on here that he had no idea about but was being forced to bare 
witness to. 

Joyce ran a hand through her hair and sighed heavily. "You're making 
this very difficult for me."

"Good. It's more than you deserve."

The older woman closed her eyes, searching for words. "I'm sorry that 
you saw what you did."

A humourless smile crossed Buffy's lips. "Are you sorry because you 
kissed Faith or because I saw you?"

At this development, Riley's mouth fell open. Buffy's mother and 
Faith? He still felt guilty about sleeping with Faith while she was 
in possession of Buffy's body. No matter how much he tried to 
convince himself that it wasn't his fault, that he didn't know, he 
felt on some level that he *should* have known. When Buffy told him 
about all the things that Faith had done, he couldn't believe he 
hadn't seen it. But his indiscretion was minor compared to this. He 
couldn't imagine what was going through Buffy's mind now.

"It wasn't how I wanted you to find out," Joyce admitted.

Buffy stared at her harshly. "Oh? So you *were* planning on telling 
me? God, how long has this been going on?"

"Not long. But the details aren't important," Joyce replied, and saw 
the incredulous expression that crossed Buffy's features. "What I 
mean is that I... care a great deal about Faith. I really think I can 
help her through the trouble she's been in."

Buffy snorted. "The cops could help her a lot more," she shook her 
head in disbelief. "Mom, if you cared one tiny bit about me, you 
wouldn't be doing this."

Joyce was silent for a moment. She looked at Riley and found no 
sympathy there. "Don't ask me to choose, Buffy," she said finally.

She saw the tears filling Buffy's hazel eyes. "You just did," her 
daughter whispered softly.

With that, Joyce saw the walls that went up in her daughter's eyes. 
She knew there was nothing she could say to make it better. Maybe 
later, much later, Buffy might become accustomed to the idea. God, 
who was she kidding? The older woman gave a weak smile and let 
herself out.

****

 

Unlocking the front door, Joyce stepped inside and closed the door. 
She leaned back against it for a moment, her eyes shut. She felt like 
she was walking on air, still stung by Buffy's words. She was still 
having trouble grasping the reality of the situation herself. Here 
she was, a woman on the wrong side of forty, indulging in an illicit 
affair with a girl young enough to be her daughter, a girl who had 
feelings for her daughter. Not only that, a girl wanted for 
questioning for at least two murders. This was definitely material 
worthy of the Jerry Springer show. How on earth did my life get so 
complicated, Joyce despaired silently. 

She could hear the television blaring from the lounge, cartoons by 
the sound of it. Collecting herself, Joyce wandered through to find 
Faith lounging on the sofa in her black, flowery robe, a tube of 
Pringles in hand. Despite this morning's argument with Buffy, she 
felt a smile form on her lips. Perhaps it was the look of intensity 
on the dark-haired girl's face, so engrossed was she in the escapades 
of Dick Dastardly and Mutley. "Hey," Faith said, looking up briefly 
from the flickering screen. Or maybe how ridiculous Faith looked in 
that robe. She wondered briefly if she looked as silly wearing it. 
No, she reassured herself, you're suitably momsy enough.

Shaking those inane thoughts from her head, she settled down beside 
Faith on the sofa. She'd barely sat down before the young woman was 
all over her. "What are you doing?" Joyce sighed as Faith nipped her 
way up the older woman's throat, over the faint lines that betrayed 
her age, before running her tongue over the diamond stud in Joyce's 
earlobe.

"Do you need me to draw you a diagram?" the dark-haired girl murmured 
next to Joyce's ear, sending an involuntary shiver thrumming through 
her body. 

Joyce exhaled sharply. "Faith, I'm not in the mood." She was so bone 
tired of it all, of trying to justify her actions. She was a grown 
woman with the spectre of middle age on the horizon. She was more 
than capable of reaching her own decisions and accepting the 
consequences. She wasn't prepared to be lectured by her nineteen year 
old daughter. Certainly not when Buffy had made a few questionable 
life choices herself. Dating a vampire... she was still mystified by 
that.

The soft, full lips immediately left her neck and Joyce regretted the 
harshness of her words. Faith stare's was strained though she was 
trying to mask it with her usual tough-as-nails attitude. "Just 
wanted to make you feel better," she shrugged and turned her 
attention back to the TV. The girl was so easy to read, almost 
incapable of hiding her emotions. Not necessarily a bad thing, Joyce 
mused, unlike Buffy who had kept so many secrets from her. She turned 
to face Faith, reaching out to touch her shoulder gently.

"You do," the older woman assured with a soft expression. "Come 
here." For a long moment Faith looked as if she was about to bolt. 
The indecision played freely across her face and Joyce wondered at 
all the things that had happened to this girl to make her so scared 
of genuine intimacy. Well... she was well aware of what had happened 
to Faith but she was curious about the girl's past, prior to arriving 
in Sunnydale last year. She wanted to know about Faith's family, in 
fact, everything about this marvellous young woman who seemed to 
possess an absolute confidence that belied her true insecurity. When 
one scratched below that tough exterior there was a very damaged girl 
who craved acceptance. "Faith?"

Faith seemed to reach some resolution because she shifted towards the 
older woman and into her embrace. She held on like she was drowning, 
inhaling deeply the flowery scent that Joyce favoured, the lingering 
scent of expensive shampoo as she buried her nose in loose blonde 
curls. The perfume, the warmth, it surrounded her. For the first time 
in her life she felt... content. Joyce pulled back to look at her and 
suddenly she was hit, like bam, with emotions that she didn't know 
how to deal with. When Joyce smiled at her, she felt very close to 
tears. Hell, she hadn't cried in years. And she wasn't about to start 
now. She looked away, tried to blink away the hotness behind her eyes 
but Joyce's hand came to her cheek and forced her to look back. 

The older woman leaned in and covered Faith's lips gently with her 
own, bestowing the softest of kisses. She wanted to show Faith that 
relationships weren't solely about sex, which was all the girl seemed 
to understand. She wanted Faith to know that to trust someone you 
have to make yourself vulnerable and that not everyone was out to 
hurt her. Faith's lips parted in an effort to deepen the kiss but 
Joyce held back, keeping it tender rather than passionate. Her hand 
came up to stroke fingers through dark wavy hair, petting silken 
strands. It was then that she felt hot tears spilling onto her 
cheeks, Faith's tears, and she broke the kiss to watch their 
progress, her heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. The dark-
haired girl didn't protest as Joyce wiped away the tears with her 
thumb, just gazed with large, dark, watery eyes. "So beautiful," 
Joyce whispered over and over. 

She stood, and taking Faith's hand, led her upstairs to her bed. As 
soon as the door was closed their lips met, mouths bumping and 
locking, kisses drawn from each other like breath. Parting her lips, 
Joyce let the girl's tongue invade her, the sandpaper softness 
teasing the roof of her mouth. Her hand curled around Faith's neck, 
pulling her closer, as if she could pull the younger woman into her 
heart by force. Their clothes were quickly shed in one continuous 
movement like the shedding of layers of skin. Faith pressed her back 
onto the white sheets, giving ardent attention to her neck. God, she 
loved to be kissed there. All too soon, the dark-haired girl 
abandoned that and sought a new prize, lips and tongue tracing a path 
between her breasts before moving back up to claim Joyce's mouth in a 
heated exchange.

Faith moaned into the kiss as Joyce drew her calf up to tangle 
between her own, excited by the mature stubble against her own flesh. 
Joyce's older scents filled her senses, the expensive youth-
preserving cremes, her classy perfume like a drug in its proximity. 
She sunk her fingers into those luxurious blonde curls and was 
strangely pleased by the thought that Joyce would go white rather 
than grey as she aged. Faith felt the woman press her sex against her 
thigh and she smiled against Joyce's lips. Gladly obliging, Faith 
began kissing her way down the older woman's body again, taking her 
time to give Joyce's still pert breasts their deserved attention. It 
wasn't long before Joyce was squirming under her lips, manicured 
hands coming to her shoulders in an attempt to guide her further 
south. Fuck, she could smell just how bad Joyce wanted her.

"I love you," the older woman whispered, as Faith trailed wet kisses 
down her abdomen. She felt the girl pause and glanced down to see why 
Faith had stopped.

"What?" Faith exhaled, rising over her slowly like a goddess. 

Joyce smiled. "I love you," she repeated breathlessly, as if it was 
the simplest thing in the world. Dark eyes stared blankly at her.

"Don't say that." The words were below a whisper and Joyce strained 
to hear.

"Sorry?"

Faith's voice was rough. "Don't say that unless you mean it." She 
looked away but Joyce gently took her chin between thumb and 
forefinger and forced her to meet the older woman's eyes. The look in 
Joyce's eyes seemed to strip everything away, the hate, the guilt, 
the past. It all wilted away because for the first time in her life, 
someone actually loved her. Not because she could slay vampires, or 
fight demons, or because she willing to do anything for the sake of 
getting laid. Because she was Faith. She'd finally found the thing 
she'd spent the whole of her short life looking for. Only thing was, 
it wasn't the person she wanted giving it. Still, after all this 
time, it all came down to Buffy. The entire fucking world could 
confess their love for her and she'd still be chasing Buffy holier-
than-thou Summers.

The older woman sat up. "I mean it," she said softly, caressing the 
tiny cleft in Faith's chin. "I'm falling in love with you." She gave 
a small laugh. "I can hardly believe it myself. But it's true." The 
dark-haired girl seemed to flinch every time she said 'love.' She 
frowned. "What's wrong?"

Faith said nothing. Merely stared down at her hands where they rested 
on Joyce's skin. A new kind of guilt came rushing over her. She 
didn't want to hurt Joyce, not anymore. It wasn't a game, not now 
that real feelings were involved. Shit, she actually cared about the 
woman, but the fact was, she'd always cared more about protecting 
herself. So she said nothing.

"Look, I don't expect you to feel the same. Much less say it. Just, 
trust me," Joyce reached down between them to entwine her long 
fingers with Faith's. She slowly brought the dark-haired girl's hand 
to her lips, placing tiny kisses on every inch of it.

Faith watched her, her chest tightening. She could hardly breathe. 
She wanted to love Joyce, her brain told her it was the sensible 
thing to do, the right thing. But when had she ever done the right 
thing? Even when she tried to be good it backfired on her. She'd 
always convinced herself that she was born bad. Maybe that wasn't 
true, maybe she'd just been dealt a shitty hand and she'd just used 
it because there was no other way. Now there *was* another way, Joyce 
was offering it to her on a plate. She wished Joyce would just let 
her get on with the fucking, that's what she understood, it's what 
she was good it. She wanted to fuck the older woman until she 
couldn't speak because then she wouldn't have to listen. She just 
couldn't deal with this.

So she did the only thing she could do. She lied. "I trust you," she 
smiled but it never quite reached her eyes. But, fuck, I don't trust 
myself. She let her eyes wander possessively over Joyce's lean body 
and smirked in appreciation. "Let me show you how much I trust you..."