Kiss Meme: Shredded Leather (Faith/Tig)
Skanky blonde over there's giving Faith the wrong kinda vibes. The cold she knows her body is is traveling down her spine, and it isn't the nice sorta feeling. Skanky blonde's cosying up to one of the bikers. He's got a Sons of Anarchy cut, but the original charter, gotta wonder what he's doing away from Charming.
Yeah, Faith knows her MCs. She never has been and never will be anyone's old lady, and most bikers know better than to take her for a free-for-all, but they're her sort of crowd to party with, hence her presence in the biker bar, and it won't be the first time she saves one of 'em from a fanged death.
She follows them out of the bar, but the skanky blonde isn't as stupid as she looks and feels her coming, or something, because there's an actual fight instead of Faith staking her from behind, and the bitch has got a knife. Faith likes actual fights better than easy stakings, truth be told, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the rush of it, and when the stake dives into the bitch's heart, it's not just her job, it's victory, and it's survival. Always gotta live one more day, always gotta fight one more fight.
She could've done without the bitch slicing her leathers, though. She doesn't mind the cut on her thigh; it'll close up soon enough, won't even be a scar by tomorrow evening. Slayer healing has its perks.
"Shit," the biker says, still watching the ash on the ground. He slaps his cheek twice, as if it might wake him up. "Whatever I took tonight, must be real good shit."
Faith snickers, and puts her stake back in her jacket. "I wish it was a hallucination, man." She grimaces down at her pants, trying to figure out if somehow they could be fixed, but she's gonna have to suck it up and buy new ones. She really should think about checking if the vamps have cash on them before she stakes them.
"You're hurt," the Son says, and before she knows it he's kneeling in front of her and pushing the leather out of the way so he can inspect her wound. He looks like he's stoned, or high, or both, and he's got pretty amazing blue eyes. There's always this other itch she has to scratch, after a good fight.
So she grabs the lapel of his cut and pulls him to his feet. "I could use a little R&R," she confirms, or doesn't, and brings his mouth down on hers by pulling down on his lapel, this time. She kisses like she fights, and he's kissing back in time.
Bikers are just her sort of crowd to party with, and once in a while she finds just the right biker to have another kind of party with. When she leaves him asleep in the motel room the next morning, she still doesn't know his name, and he never asked for hers.
Yeah, Faith knows her MCs. She never has been and never will be anyone's old lady, and most bikers know better than to take her for a free-for-all, but they're her sort of crowd to party with, hence her presence in the biker bar, and it won't be the first time she saves one of 'em from a fanged death.
She follows them out of the bar, but the skanky blonde isn't as stupid as she looks and feels her coming, or something, because there's an actual fight instead of Faith staking her from behind, and the bitch has got a knife. Faith likes actual fights better than easy stakings, truth be told, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the rush of it, and when the stake dives into the bitch's heart, it's not just her job, it's victory, and it's survival. Always gotta live one more day, always gotta fight one more fight.
She could've done without the bitch slicing her leathers, though. She doesn't mind the cut on her thigh; it'll close up soon enough, won't even be a scar by tomorrow evening. Slayer healing has its perks.
"Shit," the biker says, still watching the ash on the ground. He slaps his cheek twice, as if it might wake him up. "Whatever I took tonight, must be real good shit."
Faith snickers, and puts her stake back in her jacket. "I wish it was a hallucination, man." She grimaces down at her pants, trying to figure out if somehow they could be fixed, but she's gonna have to suck it up and buy new ones. She really should think about checking if the vamps have cash on them before she stakes them.
"You're hurt," the Son says, and before she knows it he's kneeling in front of her and pushing the leather out of the way so he can inspect her wound. He looks like he's stoned, or high, or both, and he's got pretty amazing blue eyes. There's always this other itch she has to scratch, after a good fight.
So she grabs the lapel of his cut and pulls him to his feet. "I could use a little R&R," she confirms, or doesn't, and brings his mouth down on hers by pulling down on his lapel, this time. She kisses like she fights, and he's kissing back in time.
Bikers are just her sort of crowd to party with, and once in a while she finds just the right biker to have another kind of party with. When she leaves him asleep in the motel room the next morning, she still doesn't know his name, and he never asked for hers.