Title: Behind Closed Doors
Author: Angelina
Email: angelina2006@hotmail.com
Feedback: Most appreciated.
Personal Archive: http://members.aol.com/bufpop/default.html
Archive Site: http://www3.mb.sympatico.ca/~shadow27/angelina.htm
Distribution: Take it, just drop me a line.
Spoilers: `Revelations' big time! As in, most of the dialogue is lifted straight from that ep. Also mentions other Season 3 and a bit of Season 2.
Summary: Cordy during Revelations, one of the many Season 3 eps she was hardly in.
Rating: R for language…and there may even be some sexy stuff…who knows?
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, they're the property of Joss & Mutant Enemy.
Notes: This follows `Your Freudian Slip is showing', `What meets the eye', `Believe me baby, I lied' and `Let me'. Go to one of the archives if you missed any of them.

God, is Devon ever going to stop wailing? I can’t believe I ever saw something in that guy. I mean, despite the cool factor of being in a band and all…there’s just not much there. But still I sit here and nod my head along to the music. We have to coz we’re friends with Oz now. Sometimes it’s not that bad. But tonight, well tonight’s different. Tonight’s the first night I’ve been out with Xander since the whole Faith escapade started. So to say I’m feeling slightly awkward and not at all charitable to vocally challenged lead singers would probably be accurate.

Thank all that’s holy! The set is finished so my poor little ears can take a rest. However, it also means that I’ll have to talk. Normally I’m the talkative type. But see, the problem is that I can’t lie. Well, I can, but I’m not good at it. It’s mostly because I generally just say what’s on my mind and therefore don’t have to lie a whole lot. Here comes Oz. If you want an example of the non-talkative type, Oz is your guy. He’s nice, in a strange laid back kinda way. But conversation is not his forte. He prefers to offer little sound-bytes, often making reference to popular culture. I don’t always understand those. There’s no seat for him so we all have to squash up. This brings me into very close proximity to Xander. He, as your typical teenage male, takes this as an opportunity to feel me up. That’s the last thing I need right now.

“Xander, why are you giving me a lap dance?”

“What? I just like ya!”

A while ago I’d have found that response cute. Tonight it just irritates the hell out of me. I shrug out of his touch. Great, Willow’s decided to give us her take on the situation.

“And that’s very beautiful. I think it’s great when two people like two people and want to be close to them instead of anyone else.”

What the hell is she babbling about now? It’s probably yet another attempt to bring attention to the fact that she somehow managed to get herself a boyfriend. Hello? We got the message.

“Hear, hear!”

Now why is he so jumpy? Yeah, sure, he’s usually a dufus…but he’s being dorky in a different way tonight. It takes a trained eye to notice the degrees of dorkiness and he’s definitely nearing the top of the range just now. It’s like he’s nervous or something. I’m accustomed to boys being nervous around me but not Xander. And it’s not just him, Willow’s babbling seems slightly more…babbly, if that were possible.

“Nicely put, hey can I snag a sip?”

Strange to think that Oz’s simple request for a drink of soda could cause such commotion. Both Willow and Xander reach for the cup at the same time and then pull their hands away like they’ve been burned or something, spilling the cup’s contents in the process. My boyfriend proceeds to embarrass me further by, well, by just being himself.

“Thank you! Thank you. We’re here through Saturday. Enjoy the veal.”

He finally sits down. Willow’s looking like someone gave her a B minus in math. It’s all just too weird. I can’t let this slide.

“Why are you guys so hyper?”

Willow’s eyes flick to Xander, just for a second, before she launches into another nervy speech.

“Hey, speaking of people and… things they do that aren’t like usual, anyone notice Buffy acting sorta… different?”

Hmmmm, that was definitely deliberate subject changing. And it wasn’t all that well done because we’re still on the subject of people acting weird…but just not the two of them. This is something I’ll have to keep my eye on.

“Let’s see, killing zombies, torching sewer monsters and…no, that’s, uh, pretty much the, uh, same old Buffster.”

To be honest I have to agree with Xander. I haven’t noticed anything strange about Buffy lately. Of course, ‘strange’ when applied to Buffy has to be a relative term. But she’s been almost semi-normal since she started back at school – she even tried dating someone who was living. That’s a big step for her. And she did save my ass quite a few times when we were stuck in the woods being hunted like animals. I suppose it’s quite a compliment to be mistaken for a slayer. Especially Faith. If I hadn’t been so focussed on surviving the night, I’m sure I’d have been flattered.

“Well I just mean… ya know she’s off by herself a lot more…and she’s…kind of distracted.”

That is true actually. Of course Obsesso-Willow would notice it more than the rest of us. It must be like a dream come true for her to have an actual friend who isn’t Xander. I suppose it’s understandable that she monitors her behaviour a little more closely than strictly necessary. But she has a point, Buffy has been a bit spaced lately. I think I just attributed it to the whole ‘I’m really just a meek little school-girl’ act she’s been pulling. That’s what happens when you’re a suspect in a murder case then you take off for three months. People take a lot of convincing that you’re not a psycho. But it could be something else. I think I’ll offer my hypothesis to the group.

“Think maybe she has a new honey?”

This had obviously not occurred to Willow. You can tell from the blank look on her face. Is it really such a stretch? Come on, Buffy’s hardly unattractive now is she? She’s not my type but she doesn’t belong in a French bell tower or anything.

“A boyfriend? Why wouldn’t she tell us?”

Oh Willow, Willow, Willow. You’re so innocent. There are so many reasons for not telling people certain things I could write a book on the subject. It’s quite sad actually. I hid Xander for so long and now I’m doing the same thing with Faith. Maybe I have a problem. Oh yeah, I’m a snob, I forgot. And anyway, Buffy has quite a few valid reasons of her own to be less than forthcoming with any new love interests.

“Excuse me? When your last study killed half the class and then your rebound guy sends you a dump-o-gram? It makes a girl shy.”

Yep, or if you’ve got a boyfriend and then suddenly acquire a girlfriend…that can also affect your willingness to announce your new relationship to the world.

“But we’re the best of Buffy’s bestest buds! She’d tell us…”

“Tell you what?”

Ah, the girl in question has arrived.

“About your new boyfriend who we made up…unless we didn’t.”

Willow seems to have calmed down an awful lot since we started talking about Buffy. I should have pursued my earlier line of questioning further. But I got distracted by all this talk of Buffy’s love life. Hey, I’m a girl, I like gossip. So sue me. Plus it takes my mind off my own tangled web of a personal life for a little while and that’s always a good thing.

“This was the topic of discussion?”

Buffy seems surprised. Of if only she knew just how much time Xander and Willow devote to talking about her, even when they’re on dates. ‘Buffy would have liked that movie’ ‘Buffy likes Mexican food’ ‘I wish Buffy were here to save us from that vamp’. Actually, that last one was possibly me.

“Raised, but never discussed.”

See, Oz is a man of few words. He’s kind of suave in the non-James Bond way. I’m having a hard time picturing James Bond in one of Oz’s shirts. Or Oz in a tuxedo. But I’m fed up with all this beating around the bush. Is she dating somebody or not? We have a right to know.

“So, are you dating somebody or not?”

“I wouldn’t use the word ‘dating’. But I am going out with somebody, tonight as a matter of fact.”

She’s got me interested now. I hate it when people bait you with these kind of statements. It usually means lowering yourself to ask the question that they want you to ask and I detest pandering to people’s pettiness. So luckily Willow does it for me.

“Really? Who?”

Mmmm, someone just drew a hand along my back.

“Yo what’s up?”

Oh God, my stomach just hit my feet. A combination of the sheer panic brought on by my girlfriend standing next to my boyfriend and the customary effect her voice has on me. She’s much better at this acting thing than me. She doesn’t even look in my direction. She is looking fiiiiine. Tight white top is a fabulous look on her.

“Hey, time to motorvate.”

Ummm…wait a minute…what is she…why is Buffy putting her arm around…that’s not…

“Really, we’re just good friends.”

You better believe it blondie! I’m slightly placated by the strange look Faith sent Buffy when she made that ridiculously subtext laden comment. How dare she insinuate that her and Faith are an item! If anyone should be going around hugging Faith in public it’s me, not her. I’ve got a good mind to go after them and kick her ass…but I won’t, because she could probably beat me up using her little finger. But that little display is just the last straw tonight. All this weirdness is too much for me and I just want to go home.

“Uh, look, I’m kind of tired so I’m going to head home…coming Xander?”

I hope that didn’t sound like I was hinting at anything. Although…I’m not actually getting any with Faith. Which I never envisioned whenever I fantasised about her. I suppose they would have been rather tame fantasies if I had just thought about us holding hands and having serious discussions about politics. But anyway, no, I will not use Xander to work out my sexual frustrations, that would be wrong.

“Uh, no, that’s OK Cordy I think I’ll just stay here for a while…if that’s OK with you, I mean.”

Since when does he ask for my permission to do anything. And again with the strange looks in Willow’s direction. Fuck it. They can have their little secrets if they want. They’re probably going to discuss Buffy some more. Her birthday’s only like a month away. They’ll be trying to come up with something to top last year. How do you outdo an arm in a box? I’m sure they’ll think of something. But I’m out of here anyway.

“Whatever. Bye.”

Ugh. I thought I was going to suffocate sitting at that table. It’s like guilt is weighing down on my chest. Plus they were all getting on my nerves like you wouldn’t believe. I need to get out of this place. I break into a run in my desperation to escape the stuffiness and my conscience. I finally reach the door and step gratefully out into the cool night air. For some reason I’m panting and I lean against the wall to calm myself down. The night’s a bit cooler than I’d like and I pull on the sweater I had slung around my shoulders and shiver. I slip my hands into the pockets. My left hand closes around something cool and metallic. That definitely wasn’t there earlier. I pull it out and examine it. It’s the key to Faith’s motel room.

I smile to myself. That’s actually quite romantic. She must’ve put it there when she passed me earlier. Suddenly I’m not so desperate to get home. I should feel bad. A minute ago I was all guilt-ridden and angsty. Now all I can think about is lying on her bed waiting for her to get back from slaying. She’s always pumped with adrenalin when she gets back. And sometimes she’s sweaty. And occasionally a little bit dirty. OK, I’m sold, Faith’s place it is.

I draw up outside the motel, parking in my usual spot. I wonder if anyone’s seen my car here. It’s not like you could mistake it for another. The ‘Queen C’ license plate is a dead giveaway. Then again, I don’t know anybody in this part of town besides Faith so it’s unlikely that anyone will know me. At least, it’s unlikely that anyone important enough to make trouble will know me.

I get out of the car and make my way to her room. I slip the key into the lock and hear the deep, satisfying ‘clunk’ as it turns. Getting into my house is like breaking into Fort Knox. Life is simpler here in some ways and so much more complicated in others. I push the door open and switch on the light. I’m careful to lock the door after me. As ever the room is tidy and spotless. I perch on the end of the bed and take my shoes off. I place them carefully under the bed so as not to mess up the room.

Hmmm. Now what? I have no idea how long she’ll be. I could watch TV. But there’s never anything good on TV at this time of night. She doesn’t have anything to read that isn’t a series of brightly coloured pictures with speech bubbles. So not my scene. I suppose I could just lie on the bed and look alluring, it’s not like it takes a lot of effort. Yeah, I’ll do my best femme fatale pose. She won’t be able to resist my charms. Especially in this skirt.

What is going on? What’s that banging noise? Don’t they know I’m trying to sleep here? How rude are some peop…shit! I fell asleep. I’m at Faith’s and now she’s home. Sleeping wasn’t part of the plan. At least I wasn’t drooling on the pillows. I jump up and quickly straighten my clothes down.

“Yo C, what you doin’ in there? Any chance of me gettin’ in there tonight?”

“Just a sec.”

I manage to drop the key so it takes me two attempts to open the door. Could I be more of a klutz? But what’s waiting on the other side of the door makes up for my evening of torture. She’s standing there grinning as I finally get the door open. I let my eyes take in the sight of her.

“Been asleep, Queen C?”

How does she know that?

“Uh…no…no, I was just resting on the bed.”

She steps close to me and runs a finger down the side of my face.

“So how come you got a crease like the Grand Canyon down your cheek?”

My hand flies to my face and there is indeed a long wrinkle running the length of my cheek. Damn, so much for perfecting the alluring look.

“I guess I must’ve drifted off for a little while.”

She laughs and moves fully into the room, closing the door behind her. She traces my cheek again, watching the progression of her finger closely. Then her eyes meet mine. She leans in and gently brushes her lips across the blemish. I shiver and she puts her arms around me. This isn’t quite the post-slayage Faith I had imagined. She rests her chin on my shoulder and sighs.

“Sorry I’m late. We got held up.”

“We? As in, you and Buffy?”

Did that sound jealous? I didn’t mean it to sound jealous. Because I’m not jealous at all, really.

“Yeah, me, B and Giles had to go to the library to talk to this new Watcher broad that showed up outta nowhere tonight.”

She squeezes me tightly for a second before releasing me and taking her off her denim jacket. I sit on the edge of the bed and watch her hang the garment up and put it away, trying not to feel relieved that Giles was with them the whole time. Then what she said actually registers in my brain.

“New Watcher? As in, a new Watcher for you?”

“Yep, Council thinks I need more attention than Giles can give me. So they sent this stuck up Julie Andrews wannabe in a twin-set and pearls to be my Watcher.”

She’s evidently not pleased by this development.

“So, you’re not too keen on this woman then?”

“You got that right. She criticised my slaying and she was actin’ all superior with Giles an’ shit. Lady needs a personality transplant. Then, when she’s leavin’ she makes me go with her and she gives me this pep talk about trying not to feel like a second string or somethin’ like that. That just cuz Buffy was the Slayer first, I shouldn’t ‘feel that my position is any less important than hers’”

She said the last bit in a really funny English accent. I try to hold it in, what with the serious topic of conversation, but I can’t. So I laugh. Loudly. Faith looks at me strangely for a minute. Slowly her lips turn upwards in a smile and before long she’s laughing along with me. I lie back on the bed and close my eyes, trying to get my laughter under control.

I stop laughing abruptly when I feel a weight press against my legs. I open my eyes to see Faith straddling my waist, settling her leather clad legs on either side of my body.

“You know what? I’m fed up fuckin’ talkin’ about her.”

She runs her finger down my neck and pulls gently at my sweater. She looks to me for a reaction.

“You know what? I’m fed up talking, period.”

I reach up and grab the front of her top, pulling her down on top of me, her lips colliding with mine on the way down. This kiss is different from all the others we’ve shared. There’s an implication in this one that’s never been there before. My heartbeat quickens as the kiss deepens. My hands slip up her back, underneath the top that’s so good at showing off everything she has to offer. Well, almost everything. I tug urgently at the fabric. She breaks the kiss and lifts her arms, allowing me to pull the unnecessary article of clothing over her head. I toss it aside as she sits herself back up. It really should be illegal to look that good. And there are very few people who could get away with a black bra underneath a white top, but she manages it. All of a sudden I feel inadequate. This has never happened to me, ever. She seems to sense this.

“You’re beautiful Cordelia.”

That’s all it takes for me to get back on track. I start to sit up and Faith leans back a bit so I can adjust my position so that I’m sitting with my back against the headboard. She then moves back so she’s sitting on my thighs. I need to touch her so badly. But I don’t know where to start. I place my hands on her shoulders, feeling the hidden muscles working underneath the flawless skin. I slide my hands over her collar bone, I run my fingertips down her sides, I caress the firm surface of her stomach. All the while she sits and watches me, her increased respiration the only indication of her arousal.

I take a deep breath and move my hands to her full breasts. I’ve never felt another woman’s breasts before so it’s a learning experience. I know what I think feels good and I just have to hope she agrees. I hear her breath hitch in her throat when I rub my thumbs over her rapidly hardening nipples. They’re standing out against the cloth of her bra now. I take my hands away and smile at her whimper of protest. I lean in and kiss her parted lips. Her tongue slips into my mouth and I reach around behind her and undo the clasp, releasing her breasts to my eager eyes. I pull away from the kiss and sit back to drink in the vision in front of me. Her nipples appear to get even harder under my scrutiny and her breathing steps up a notch.

Suddenly I find myself on my back with those breasts pressed against my own. It appears that I’ve gotten her a bit worked up now and she’s devouring my neck with her lips. I hear a zipper and out of the blue my skirt disappears. My strappy vest quickly follows it and I’m left in nothing but a pair of panties.

There’s very little blood getting to my brain so my hands are quite clumsy as they work at the buttons of her fly. Then her mouth closes around my breast and I’m gone. All thoughts of her pants are temporarily forgotten as I move my hands to the back of her head, encouraging her to continue what she’s doing. I don’t know exactly what it is she’s doing that feels sooooo good, but as long as she keeps doing it I couldn’t care less. Then a hand starts moving down my stomach. Soon it’s at the waistband of my panties and my hips are all the way off the mattress trying to increase the contact. The hand slips lower and I pull Faith up to kiss her deeply. We easily find a comfortable rhythm and I hang onto Faith’s shoulders for dear life.

“Oh…oh yeah…yuh huh…oh God…oh Goooood!”

“You can call me that if you like but I prefer Faith.”

I would reply but I’m way beyond coherent speech now. My eyes are squeezed tightly shut as Faith continues to work her magic on my body. Every touch is ignites my skin. Every kiss sears itself into my consciousness. I keep forgetting to breathe, which is slightly dangerous. There’s no way I can hang on much longer…

“Oh…omigod…ah…ye…Faith…please…please…Faith…I…”

After that the power of speech deserts me as my body goes to another plane of existence. It’s the only explanation for the floating sensation that’s overtaken me and the strange tingling all over. It’s like my body has come alive, or thawed out. Like I’ve been touched for the very first time. OK, so it’s corny and very possibly in contravention of copyright laws, but I defy you to come up with a better description of an orgasm from Faith.

Faith, who is currently cradling my lolling head against her chest and stroking my hair. She probably thinks I’m dead. Well, they do call it ‘Le petit mort’ don’t they? In this case it should probably have been ‘Le grand mort’. I finally manage to force my eyes open and I look up at her.

“You OK?”

I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her chest. She rubs my back. Then I realise that she might be thinking that I’m not OK from my reaction. I quickly look up and smile at her.

“I’m perfectly OK. I don’t think I’ve ever been more OK than I am right now.”

She grins.

“I think I can live with that.”

I lean up and kiss her lips softly. I pull back and look into her eyes. Then I kiss her again, more firmly this time, lowering my hands to her fly once again. I’m thinking a little more clearly this time so I manage to get them undone. I start to slide the tight leather down over her hips. She shimmies slightly to help them on their way. She isn’t wearing any underwear. I move away from her lips so I can remove her boots and then her pants. Deciding to be bold, I kiss my way up her legs, giving particular attention to her thighs. Her arousal is evident and she’s looking down at me in anticipation.

“I’ve never done this before so I may not be very good at it, OK?”

I feel it’s polite to let her know this in advance so she doesn’t get her hopes up too high. I glance up at her and see she’s laughing silently, her whole body shaking. She then throws her head back and laughs out loud. It’s not very courteous to laugh before I’ve even started.

“I…I’m usually a really quick learner though so it should get better soon…I…what are you laughing at?”

She reaches down and practically lifts me up so that I’m lying on top of her, our naked bodies pressed against each other. Sometimes I forget just how strong she is.

“I’m laughin' at you C. That…uh…that’s definitely the first time anyone’s been between my legs and said that.”

Oh.

“Well, I…I just didn’t want you to be disappointed that’s all.”

She kisses the end of my nose.

“Cor, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. But whatever you do I know it’ll be fabulous. Hell, I get turned on just lookin’ at ya. So don’t sweat it, OK?”

I consider this. I suppose everybody has to do it for the first time at some point. It may as well be now. I lean down and kiss Faith once on the lips before I move down her body, licking and nipping at points of interest on the way.

Again I find myself at my destination. Sucking up my courage I go in. At the first touch of my tongue her hips rise up to meet my mouth. I’m desperately trying to remember what Xander used to do to me but my mind’s a blank so I decide just to go for it. From the sound of things I’m doing OK. Her hand grasps the back of my head and holds it in position. I hold onto her thighs to steady myself. This is actually much more enjoyable than I’d thought it would be. It always struck me as quite gross and icky, as activities go. Oh God, she’s stopped making noise…that’s probably bad. Oh, no, it’s fine, it’s just because her thighs are pressed so tightly against my ears that I can’t hear anything. That’s encouraging anyway. I increase my efforts until I feel her go rigid. Her thighs release their death grip on my head and I take this opportunity to surreptitiously wipe my face on the sheet. Hey, I’m new at this, I’m not up on the etiquette just yet.

I move back up to hold her. I find her breathing heavily and covered in a thin veil of sweat. It’s quite gratifying to know that I did that. I hold her close and wait for her eyes to open. They do, eventually, and I smile down at her. She smiles back.

“Hey.”

“Hey…so, am I to take it from your reaction that I was OK for a beginner?”

She grins.

“Babe, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were a pro.”

I think I’ll take that as a compliment. She props herself up on an elbow and cups my face with her free hand. She wants to say something but she’s struggling for the words. I get that. So I save her. By kissing her. When we part we don’t need words. I snuggle up against her as she pulls the sheet up around us. Isn’t it funny how the worst nights can have the best endings?