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Dare You To Move
by Doyle
Rating: R
Pairing: Kennedy/Riley/Sam, in a way that isn't.
Notes: for the Choose Your Author Ficathon. My request was A bit of a challenge; I'd love to see some Riley/Kennedy, preferably post-Chosen. Reference to the tongue piercing, and if at all possible, with Sam watching.
"Sure," she says, when you ask her if she wants to fuck your husband. Flick of that dark hair back over her shoulder and one of her smiles that crawls inside you and slices all the way down: "But I get to go on top."
This never happened.
**
Sometimes, like when he's hitting the floor for the eighth time in twenty minutes and there's a bruise already blossoming under one eye and he's not getting up as fast as he should but he's grinning anyway, you think Riley enjoys being beaten up by women just a little too much.
"Give it up, Finn," Kennedy says, bouncing on her heels and not offering him a hand up. You wonder if she picked up the name from you or started using it on her own.
"I can take you," he says, hands braced on his knees while he heaves for air. "I might need an assault team and a tank..."
Kennedy laughs and if she wasn't gay, if she hadn't snorted and said not if we were the last two people on earth and I still had at least one hand when you asked if she'd ever have sex with a man, you'd think that she was having an affair with your husband. And then you want to smack yourself for acting like a reject from Lifetime. Someday you're going to wake up and realize you've turned into your mom, and then the only viable options are going to be hari-kari or frontal lobe surgery.
"Go again?" This time he dodges a couple of the punches before a kick to the shoulder sends him to the mat. Kennedy rolls her arms high above her head, fingers laced together and palms to the ceiling.
It takes him a long time to get up. You're his wife, not his mother, and you're not going to suggest they stop till they're ready to do it themselves.
If this means Riley spends two days in the infirmary - again - then he's a big boy, and that's his business.
And you just sit back to watch.
**
You always test Kennedy after one of their sessions. Technically, this is your job, studying the Slayer that Riley trains, except you're not sure how much training Kennedy's getting, or how useful your data is. Heart rate, reflexes, stamina, a file full of numbers and charts that you could just Xerox every day and get much the same results. When her heart speeds up, it's just excitement, not exertion. She can spar with (beat up) your husband (her Watcher) for hours, and barely break a sweat. Day after day, the same thing, and you wonder what she gets out of her training sessions.
"Done?"
You nod and she flashes a smile, sliding down off the table in the way that never fails to remind you how small she is. Not a tiny, Hollywood-sized girl like Buffy, but little enough that you feel like you should be walking with a stoop.
It's one more thing to add to the list of reasons why you weren't called. A little too old, a little too big, not the right genetics, not the right time. Pity. You would have made a good Slayer. Half the girls you see don't even want it, do nothing but complain about having this forced on them. You nod, you do the sympathy thing, and you never let them know you're wishing they would stop whining for five seconds and think about their gifts. Strength, speed, agility, endurance. They could join the Initiative. The regular army. Any of the Olympic teams. Hell, they could knock over banks.
Some of them like being a Slayer. Very few of them love it. Kennedy's one of them, and you like that about her. You like that she's gung-ho and outspoken and even that she would have no reservations about calling you a crazy psycho if she knew you think that watching her train with Riley is... hot. All that power and strength and anger and joy, and you watch the speed of her fists and the look on their faces and to be more sexual they'd have to actually be screwing on the training room floor.
Which they haven't. And this shouldn't disappoint you.
When he makes love to you, when he can't hold back any more, you wait, breathless, for him to say her name. And he doesn't. And this shouldn't disappoint you.
You shouldn't think about Kennedy on top, head between his thighs and that stud through her tongue scraping him just. There. And holding him down because she can and looking up at you with those dark, dark eyes and smiling her smile that freezes and burns.
You shouldn't think this, but you can't seem to stop.
Riley doesn't like Kennedy because she's gorgeous - she is, but you're not some insecure teenage girl and you know Riley Finn is the kind of man to look but not think of touching. He doesn't like her because they both dated one of the Sunnydale gang, or even because he still has a thing for Slayers. He likes that she's strong, and that she doesn't go easy on him, and that she never apologizes for being able to take him down.
"Tomorrow," he says, when the three of you are in the bar, Kennedy on your left, Finn on your right.
"Never gonna happen," she says. Smirks at him, and he smiles back, and there's a heartbeat when just maybe she's forgotten she doesn't like men and he's forgotten he has a wife.
And if there's a right moment, this is it. But the words won't come and you finish your drink.
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