By Minim Calibre
Notes: Spoilers through Apocalypse Now-ish/Rain of Fire. Faith/Wes, R.
There’s a lot of shit I never pictured myself doing: living past twenty, giving a fuck if I lived past twenty, caring what people thought of me. Then there’s shit so weird that I still can’t picture it, and I’m fucking living it. Like playing Good Cop/Bad Cop, only I’m the Good Cop, and Wes is the Bad Cop. And speaking of shit too weird to picture…
Me screwing him. Literally.
Never thought I’d be the sane one in this pairing. Never really thought this would be a pairing, either. Hell, it’s not like we like each other. Kinda the opposite. Just something about all this fighting—it gets a girl going. Gets a guy going too, turns out. He’s the wrong guy, I’m the wrong girl, but there’s worse ways to kill a few hours.
Besides, it’s not like it’s me he’s fucking half the time.
“Who am I this time?” I ask him once we’re back at his place. Red slip and high heels or eyeglasses and pigtails, toss a coin for who I get to be for an hour. That’s okay. Makes things easier on account of not having to care.
“You really are a piece of shit, you know that?” He says it all polite, like he’s doing me a favor by saying it.
“Takes one to know one. You wanna try something new? Want me to cut my hair, throw some gel in it let you call me Angel? Wouldn’t that be a wicked pisser.”
“Just be quiet and take off your clothes. You’re filthy.”
“Yeah, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Shirt first, then shoes, then pants. They’re still covered in fresh blood and sweat, so I make sure to grind them into the carpet.
“Undergarments too, Faith.”
“Gee, Wes, you’ve gotta work for those.” With a smile, so he knows I mean it.
He mutters “bitch” under his breath, but he comes over and starts workin’ me. Nasty bites up and down my neck and nastier hands down my underpants. The only games we’re gonna play tonight are mine. His thumb teases my clit while his fingers stroke and dip and thrust until I’m so wet I can hear it.
I slip my sports bra over my head and push him towards the bed, ’cause I’m in the game and let’s face it: I’ve never been Little Miss Patience. “Strip.” My turn to give the orders.
Drop my soaked panties with a quick shimmy and kick while he does what I say. I could get used to being obeyed. Sucks I’m not gonna have a chance, but when we’re done with whatever it is were doing here, I’ve gotta get the fuck out of L.A..
I toss him a rubber. “Now get dressed.”
Yeah, it’s nice to be obeyed. I straddle him, wait until his cock’s all the way inside and then I flex and squeeze and look him in the eyes so he knows this time, it’s me he’s fucking.