Five Pairs of Lips Buffy Never Kissed
So, Willow and Tara.
Sure, it took a moment to actually wrap her brain around that but, okay. After all, Buffy wasn’t a prude or anything. Hello- her first lover had been a vampire.
Still, she wondered at all that softness: the breasts and thighs and cheeks.
And to be perfectly honest, Buffy did have to admit to feeling a little bit jealous. What was she- chopped liver?
Buffy bit her lip and glanced across their shared dorm room.
If Willow was that way, couldn’t she have at least offered? Just a kiss even.
“What’re you thinking about?” Willow asked.
Buffy leaned into Giles’s office. Tea cup. Check. Musty, old book. Check. No Giles.
“Buffy, for goodness sake,” Giles said, appearing at the top of the stairs, “this is a library.”
“Yeah, well, who made you the boss?”
Giles poked at the bridge of his glasses.
“Did you want something?”
“Did you ever catch anyone making out up here,” she asked.
“Why is it that all you young people ever think about is sex?”
“Don’t you think about it?” She paused. “Like, do you ever think about kissing me?”
Giles looked positively mortified and Buffy laughed.
Just after Buffy found out that Oz was a full-moon, nocturnal kind of guy, she thought about him in a way that was—inappropriate. He wasn’t her type, too compact: wiry, small. Nothing like Angel.
And everything like him.
She wondered about the smell of Oz, ripe and masculine. She wondered about the other-ness of him, a creature of the dark: solitary, lethal.
For a whole week, her panties moistened every time he was near. Oz’s mouth fascinated her. She thought about wolf-Oz tearing flesh apart; she thought about human-Oz kissing her.
Clearly she had an addiction to dangerous men.
Faith lifted her arms and tossed her head, her black hair swinging back in a tangled arc. The band was two minutes into the drum solo from hell and the bass reverberated through Buffy’s body, made her fingers tingle.
“Aren’t they the greatest, B?”
Buffy turned away from Faith to look back at the band.
“Yeah. Great,” she said.
“This music makes me so horny,” Faith said.
Is there something that doesn’t make you horny.
“I just want to mack on someone.” Faith leaned forward, her eyes dropping to Buffy’s mouth.
“Yeah, I know. I’m not gay, either.”
Don’t kiss me on the mouth, her daddy used to say, turning his cheek and leaning down so that Buffy could press her little-girl lips to his stubbled cheek.
She could count on one hand the times her father had shown her any affection that wasn’t accompanied by tickets to the Ice Capades, gift certificate for the mall or a perfunctory hug.
Buffy couldn’t figure out what could be wrong with loving her daddy. Wasn’t she meant to?
By the time she figured out that her father had issues with intimacy, she was no longer interested in kissing him anyway.
And Five She Did
“Whatcha doin', Summers?”
Whenever Billy Ford talked to her, like now on the playground for everyone to see, Buffy could feel her heart hammering hard inside her chest.
“Nothing,” she said. “I mean, I was--” She glanced around for a plausible explanation as to why she had drifted away from where her friends were skipping and closer to where he was playing ball hockey.
He smiled and leaned on the top of his stick.
“You’re cute,” he said, bending down to kiss her quickly.
He’d missed most of her bottom lip, but Buffy still felt like dying with happiness.
There was a promise in his kiss. In retrospect, not so much in his eyes- but she hadn’t been looking that closely.
He said the right words. Made her feel like she was a part of this world. Gave her a choice that Angel never had.
Is this okay. Because I can stop if you wanna.
And his mouth had been warm. And his hands, sliding up over her body, had been warm, too.
So she’d blocked out the red sheets on his bed and pushed the memory of another, older lover from her head and she’d kissed him back.
She knows how to do it. CPR. She knows how. Of course she does. Because she would. She should. It’s part of her Slayer training, practiced every few months on a dummy from Giles’s closet.
But this is different.
She wants to use her breath for screaming.
But she doesn’t really have any breath, not anymore. Because here is her mother, glassy-eyed and still.
The operator is still on the phone instructing Buffy in a passionless voice.
But when Buffy leans down to give her mother the kiss of life she discovers that death has already claimed her.
The first time he kissed her, it was a dream. The first time she kissed him, it was a choice.
Her instincts and her common sense were over-ruled by something much more powerful than her misgivings. It was hard not to believe him when he said they were evenly matched; it was hard not to fall for his pretty words and strong arms.
It was almost possible to believe that Riley Finn, corn-fed Iowa boy-soldier, might actually be the man to bring her into the light.
He kissed her with purpose and warm lips. She kissed him back with hope.
If there’s one thing Buffy knows about being human, it is that it’s not easy. Also, the world is never black and white. She stands outside Spike’s crypt knowing that. Friends might someday be enemies. Lovers, too. The punishment doesn’t always equal the crime and the reward isn’t always befitting the ‘job-well-done.’
His face is a mess. His words are still sharp, though, revealing more about himself than he probably would have otherwise. Has she misjudged him; she doesn’t really think so. Regardless, he has kept his word.
And because it is comfort she can easily give, she kisses him.
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