Bewitched, Bothered, and Bred update

Buffy had found Xander attractive for a while, and a good friend, but all of a sudden, she wanted to fuck him. Suck him. Whatever else they could do together.

Maybe it was that she’d tried to seduce him and he’d turned her down, and not getting any action from Xander Harris if she wanted some was just too much for her ego to bear. So she dressed to kill. This time, no little trenchcoat to tantalize Xander. She was going to blow his mind.

Buffy looked at herself in her vanity mirror. She wore a little white teddy, cut low between her pert little breasts, and high over her hips so that just a thin strip of fabric ran between her thighs. She hadn’t been overly blessed with cleavage, but the outfit was so tight that the lacy material strained under the pressure of what she did have, as well as her slender Slayer/cheerleader muscles—the little buttons that held the front together looking as if they could pop at any moment. To finish the outfit, she wore white mesh stockings and high heels that pushed her legs into a delicious state. Seeing her reflection, Buffy knew she was in vogue. She wasn’t going to tempt Xander. She was going to destroy him.

She puckered her lips and ran a fierce, almost whorish shade of deep red lipstick over them. She was just about to apply some perfume when she heard a pebble rattle against her bedroom window. She opened it, but didn’t stick her head out—knowing that Xander would only be able to see so much of her from the ground.

“Get up here, Harris,” she said tersely before drawing away from the window.

The next few minutes Buffy spent pressed to the wall next to the window, listening as Xander made his way up the tree that usually gave Angel access to the second floor of the house. It wasn’t a route Xander was particularly familiar with—Buffy didn’t usually have him over this late at night or without her mother’s knowledge. The front door was more Xander’s speed.

She heard him clambering around, snapping branches, banging himself against the trunk, until he finally got onto the roof. There, he crawled his way on all fours to Buffy’s window, rolling inside in a hail of twigs and leaves. He got up up, panting, and brushed himself off as much as he could only for Buffy to close the window behind him.

Xander whirled around and saw the last gust of wind coming through the window, blowing the tassels that adorned Buffy’s hips. Xander could make out at least the outlines of everything she had to offer through the semitranslucent lingerie.

“You know, it really pisses me off, you saying no to me,” Buffy fumed.

Xander was immediately dazed by the sight of her, left unable to realize how the love spell had hit her. “But you… you said you were thankful that I didn’t take advantage—“

“You seriously think you can take advantage of me? I’m the Slayer, Harris. If I let you put your dick in me, you better believe I’m getting off. Sit.”

She gave Xander a shove, dropping him into a wicker chair with an impact that rattled a few errant berries from his ruffled clothes. Buffy stood over him, loomed over him despite how petite she was, and placed her hands domineeringly on her hips.

“Let me tell you something, Xander. Every day I have to fight vampires and demons—monsters. I get the shit kicked out of me. My friends are in danger. If I fail, people die. So does it not occur to you that I might need something to take the edge off? That I might need you to take the edge off?”

“But it wasn’t real, it was just the spell, so you didn’t really want to—“

Expounding his point, Xander started to get up, and Buffy lashed out with her foot. Catching him in the chest and holding him down in his chair while she bent at a cheerleader-flexible angle, standing on him with one foot still on the ground.

“Don’t tell me what I want. I’ve wanted you for a while, Xander.” Buffy smirked at the sight of how he gaped with surprise, even more than when he’d been faced with her hot-to-fuck lingerie. “Oh yeah, Xand. I’ve seen the way you look at me. I think you’re cute. You probably even know how to fuck, if Cordelia keeps you around. And I like to get fucked. Even if it was just those five times with Angel before he went bad.”

Xander’s shock actually buffeted him out of his unthinking daze. Five times? In one go? And he’d thought he had teenage hormones. Xander guessed that was what happened when vampire strength met Slayer stamina. Even if he didn’t like the guy, he could admit that was impressive.

“Stop thinking about me having sex!” Buffy snarled. “We’re having a conversation!”

“Are we?” Xander asked. “This feels almost like some… kinky dungeonmaster role-play thing. Why are you dressed like that?”

“We’ll come to that later,” Buffy said quickly. She came closer, bringing her foot down from his chest only to straddle his lap, kneeling on top of his thighs. “This is such typical Xander. I’m trying to talk to you about something important… about why I won’t fuck you… and you’d rather be off in your own little world…”

“You… won’t fuck me?” Xander asked, feeling like he was just going from one synonym for ‘confused’ to another. “Why are you in my lap then?”

“Because I’m trying to get you to pay attention.” Buffy pinched his nose between her fingers and shook it, which Xander found oddly arousing—not that much Buffy did couldn’t be arousing in that outfit. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about why I didn’t fuck you when I had a golden opportunity to get my rocks off, guilt-free—blame it on the love spell.”

“Because I turned you down,” Xander said. “Because I knew you didn’t really—“

“Oh, shut up, Harris,” Buffy interrupted. “Do you really think you could’ve said no to me if I wanted to say yes?”

Xander gulped. As scary as an angry Slayer could be, an angry, horny Slayer was an interesting proposition. “Well, okay, I suppose you could… rip my bodice if you really wanted…”

“Exactly.” Buffy leaned in, almost nose to nose with him, so close that he could feel her hardened nipples brush against his chest. “I didn’t because I’m not good enough for you.”

“Buh?” Xander asked articulately.

“Yeah? Get it? I’m the Slayer. I have a body count in the dozens already. Who knows how many more I’ll kill before I go—which will be pretty soon, too. Not a lot of Slayer retirement plans, you know?”

“But, Buff—they’re demons. They kill people.”

“You don’t get it, Xand. I kill people. They walk and talk and pay taxes and I kill them. Even if they deserve it, you don’t think that fucks with my head?” Buffy poked a finger against her temple for emphasis. “And the kicker is I’m not even mature enough to know what’s wrong with me. I’d probably need a psychology degree to know how all this is getting to me, which I won’t live long enough to earn. But if I’m being really self-aware—like really, painfully self-aware—I think I kinda like being reminded that I’m going to die. Getting hurt. Since that’s what I’m here for. Taking more punishment than your average teenage girl. So what I really look for in a guy is someone who’ll hurt me.” Buffy grinned morosely. “Dating a vampire. Who could’ve guessed that would go pear-shaped. I’ve even thought Spike was kinda hot. Not that I masturbate to him or anything—when it’s me time, I can just think about the last slutty little outfit Faith had on and I’m off to the races. Speaking of relationships that can hurt. But you, Xander…” She came in even closer, but it was only to kiss him on the forehead. “You’re just too nice. You’d treat me good. And that just isn’t what gets me off, boy.”

For a moment, Xander froze. Then he chuckled. Once. A sound so dry, it bordered on darkness. “So that’s it then? That’s what I’ve been doing wrong? I haven’t been enough of a jerk to you?”

Buffy smiled at him, commiserating. “You just don’t have it in you, Xander. That killer instinct. Maybe Angel was just super good at fucking, but I think it was knowing he could rip my throat out that really made my weasel pop. And he had a big dick…”

That was all Xander could take. He grabbed a handful of her teddy’s tassels while his other hand snuck behind Buffy, grabbing the zipper. And with his grip on it, he pulled Buffy’s small body against his, crushing her in an embrace. She sighed condescendingly as he struggled with her zipper.

“Oh, Xander, you really think that’s going to hurt me? It’s a nice thought, but I’m just too strong. It’s sweet of you to try though.”

Xander cursed. Then he grabbed hold of her teddy and jerked it hard, ripping it from her neck to her buttocks.

“Jesus, Xander!” Buffy gasped. “Do you know how much that cost?”

“Too damn much,” Xander muttered as his greedy lips flew onto Buffy’s exposed neck. “Anything that makes you look like that should be easier to take off.”

Buffy tried to push Xander away, but he had her in a death grip. She was afraid to really try and free herself for fear of hurting him. And she liked how little he cared about hurting her. “Hey, Xander, wait a minute—your teeth—!”

“I thought you liked that, Buffy. I thought being a vampire slut got you off!” Xander’s lips were pulled back in a snarl, his teeth sinking into Buffy’s pulsating jugular. He wasn’t hurting her, but he was sure as hell letting her know that she could be hurt.

If he thought it through—the anger he was feeling and Buffy’s sudden confession—he might’ve done things different. He might’ve suspected at this new, low-key incarnation of Amy’s love spell had taken Buffy to a weird place in her need to fuck him. But as far as he was concerned, there wasn’t any more thinking to be done. All the planning from here on out was going to be done by the rock-hard erection Buffy had given him.

Buffy writhed inside his grip. Her neatly coiffed hair was coming down from its updo. Beads of sweat breaking out all over her face were chiseling away at her make-up. “Christ, you’re an animal!”

“So are you,” Xander growled, his hands groping her everywhere, until they grabbed hold of the legholes of her teddy. Then they ripped. Buffy’s lingerie split in the front just like it’d ripped in the back. Xander buried himself in her breasts, sucking at their pert contours, then biting down hard into them.

“AAAIIEEE!” Buffy cried, feeling his hands on her buttocks, squeezing the taut flesh there until it felt like it was being compressed in a vise. His thumb prodded at her asshole—Buffy gasping with the pressure that threatened to let him inside of her anus. More than that, she felt the rough brown leather of his belt scraping away just below her belly button. “Okay, Xander, Xander, I want you to hurt me, not your clothes. Take them off, please. I want to feel you,” she confessed at last.

Xander was in no mood to gratify her. He’d been doing that for years. Now he saw that he could take what he wanted. All the lingerie and stocking and high heels were Buffy showing him that. If she was so fucked up that she wanted a guy who would hurt her, he’d give her that. At least he loved her, after all. “You take them off.”