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Strip Snap by Lilachigh
 
Chp 16 Demon Fire
 
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Strip Snap by Lilachigh

Chpt 16 Demon Fire


In the dark graveyard, Buffy and William walked round to the far side of the blaze. Great waves of icy air were shimmering out of the flames that danced in gold and orange chaos. There was no smoke, just sparks that flung themselves up and up until they vanished into the velvety black sky.

Buffy was aware of William standing at her shoulder – where Spike would have been, of course, guarding her back. But William seemed blissfully unaware of what was going on in the shadows around them. He was staring thoughtfully at the fire, frowning.

“I’m sure you have realised, Miss Buffy, that this is indeed a – ”

“Demon fire? ”

“So, perhaps your friends did misinterpret the charm. This could be the beginning of untangling those strange words.” His hand lightly touched her shoulder and she shuddered with the desire that was always there, waiting to pounce. “If that is true, we do not need to make love three times after all in order to get your Spike back!”

“We already have done it three times,” Buffy whispered crossly. “The verse never made sense where that’s concerned and you know it!”

She glanced round. The gold of the flames was reflected in his eyes and for a moment she was lost in the intensity of his gaze. Only the slightly softer, longer curls, no longer held rigidly flat by gel, reminded her that this was William, not Spike.

The mouth that could send her insane with desire curved into a smile but there was no amusement in his voice. “Why, then if it is not any longer part of the charm, there is nothing to stop us – ” He gestured towards the bushes that bordered the pathway. “Except you would rather I was Spike, of course!”

Buffy glanced back at the demon fire. It was flaring brighter and brighter but the chill it gave off was making her shudder as if she were running a fever. Of course it was that and not the persuasive tug of William’s hand in hers that was making her legs shake.

“That’s not true. Well, yes, I miss Spike. I love him, but you – it’s not that I don’t like you, ” she whispered. “I’m on patrol – and – oh!” He had pulled her hand down to his zip and she felt the thrust of his cock pushing at the thin denim jeans.

“Unleash me, Buffy,” he muttered, and even as her fingers fumbled for his belt buckle, she realised he was no longer calling her Miss.

“I’m cold,” she gasped, her teeth chattering.

“Then, perhaps, for once, I’ll feel warm to you, even if I am not Spike!” With one swift, brutal rip, he tore her top open and Buffy realised, with a flood of hot anticipation that this wasn’t going to be William sweetly making love to her like a gentleman and one part of her gloried in the thought. She needed to pit strength against strength and only Spike and now William could give her that.

Whatever the fire was doing to her, it was affecting William, too. She gasped as his hands covered her breasts, rolling her nipples between hard padded fingertips. She tugged her jeans down to her knees then kicked off her boots. With a growl, William picked her up and crashed through the bushes to where the grass was damp and long up against an old moss-covered crypt.

Now they were both naked and his mouth and hands were everywhere, touching, pinching, rubbing, stroking, soft then hard. She tried to push his head down to her clit but he pinned her hands above her head and growled, “No! No finger fucking. No standing back and pretending my hands belong to someone else. I’m tired of you wanting Spike when you’ve got me.”

“What? No – wait, I don’t – Oh God!” She realised that William was in full game face as he pushed her thighs apart and plunged inside her. The shock of his thrusting drove her further and further along the grass until she was jammed up against the crypt wall.

Buffy felt as if she was being split in two. She couldn’t get her legs any wider – but she needed him deeper, harder, oh god this was impossible! In a surge of red-hot burning sensation, she swung her legs up and drummed her heels hard against his swooping shoulders. Her fingers dug into the mud and she felt a nail snap as his tongue filled her mouth, choking down the screams that were rising in a crescendo inside her throat.

“Think – of – me!” William gasped as he thrust in, pulled back then plunged, seeking to get even deeper. “Not – him! He’s not coming back. I’m here. Feel me! All of me!” The fangs slid lower and Buffy gasped as she felt them graze and break the skin just under her nipple, then as he sucked the blood into his mouth, she felt his huge cock growing even harder and larger and suddenly it was deep inside her, touching that sensitive bundle of nerves, not once or twice, but over and over again.

Now she threw her head back and screamed, feeling her nails scratching deep into his back as her climax began to build in a torrent of burning fluid, fangs and fists dominating her, subduing her, a hoarse voice demanding she loved him, William.

Then with a strength she rarely used, she flipped William over and holding his erection tightly inside her, changed the angle and leaning over him, let the blood drip off her nipple into his mouth as the steel shaft of his prick now pressed endlessly against her clit and this time she rode him until he, in turn, screamed for release and they both crashed together into a place they would never be able to forget.

Buffy struggled to open her eyes as the demon fire flared again behind the bushes. William’s legs were wrapped round hers and she winced as she pulled herself free. The vampire grumbled angrily and reached for her, but she wriggled away.

“We must go home,” she said, trying not to look at him. There was no point in discussing what had happened. Their lovemaking had somehow been affected by the fire; a ride as wild as that couldn’t possibly be caused by anything except magic.

Buffy glanced round the graveyard. It was hard to see into the darkness; the brightness of the fire was ruining her night vision. Obviously William had no such problems. But her senses told her there were no other vamps in the cemetery except William.

“I need to talk to Willow. We need to do some research on demon fires. And fast.” She picked up her top and sighed. It was torn in half and she realised she had nothing to cover her breasts but her denim jacket. She winced as the rough material rubbed at the bite mark. Thank god it was beneath her nipple. At least it wouldn’t show when she wore anything low cut.

William was pulling on Spike’s jeans and boots. He stretched and grinned at her, looking smugly satisfied. “I need to sleep,” he said.

By the time they’d got home, showered and changed and woken Willow it was late. Luckily Dawn didn’t stir, for which “much thankfulness,” Buffy muttered to her friend came downstairs, yawning. “I know she wants to help and be involved, but sometimes recently I feel I spend more time looking after her than Slaying. Was she always this clingy? And I know she wasn’t really here, key and all, but even in my memories she used to be out with her friends a lot, riding bikes, hanging out at the mall, being a pain in the butt, but not under my feet twenty four seven.”

Willow sighed. She knew that Buffy had never come to terms with how her death had affected her friends and family. She’d been so involved with her own feelings of loss at being dragged out of heaven; trying at first to disguise her sense of desolation, then accepting that she had to get on with living again. In all that emotional turmoil, had she ever wondered how Dawn had felt, watching her sister die instead of her?

It wasn’t as simple as losing her to an accident. That would have been bad enough. But Dawn had all the additional burden of knowing she was The Key, that Buffy was dying in her place.

An only child, Willow tried to imagine how she would have felt as a young teenager, if Xander, for example, had died in her place. Guilt, overwhelming, never-ending guilt. And that was what Dawn had had to contend with all those months. If it hadn’t been for Spike – his grief had been hard to watch and Dawn had been jolted out of her own despair in trying to comfort the vampire – Willow had no idea what would have happened to Dawn.

She would never forget her face when Buffy had arrived back. The joy in her eyes had been almost frightening. And now Buffy acted as if she’d been away for the weekend and why was Dawn making such a fuss about it all this time later.

“I think she feels if she lets you out of her sight for long, you’ll vanish,” she said abruptly, “and you don’t help by constantly finding reasons to hang out with Spike, or work double shifts!” and could tell from Buffy’s startled glance that she had spoken in a harsher tone than she meant to use.

“Oh great! Then I’ll just stay at home and babysit Dawn and we can starve happily together! Then maybe everyone will be pleased.”

William stared gravely from one girl to the other and sensed the growing tension in the air. “Well, Miss Dawn is safely in bed now,” he said diplomatically changing the subject. “Have you any ideas about the demon fire we experienced in the cemetery, Miss Willow?”

Willow poured milk on a bowl of cereal and stirred it slowly, round and round. “I’ve read about demon fire somewhere. Not recently, but I’ll go down to the Magic Box in the morning and see if I can hunt it up. But Buffy, where exactly was the bonfire?”

“In the old cemetery behind the High School. Just past where those two big stone angels stand,” Buffy said absentmindedly, already worrying about what to do with William when she went to work in the morning.

Willow’s spoon halted half way to her mouth, milk dripping unnoticed onto the table-top. “You don’t mean behind the old Bellingham crypt?”

Buffy frowned. “What? Oh, yes, somewhere round there. I didn’t notice exactly.” She didn’t want to tell Willow that her senses had been too overwhelmed with what William was doing to her to notice the name of the crypt she was lying against as he fucked her.

Willow stared at her, wide-eyed. William reached over and tidily took the spoon from her frozen hand and replaced it in the bowl.

“Buffy – don’t you remember whose grave was just there?”

“What – who – oh – OH!” Buffy went pale and stood up, sending her chair flying. The memories came flooding back. “That - that was where The Master was buried, before he was dug up again!”

Willow nodded.

“But, Will, it can’t be anything to do with him. I pounded his skeleton into bits. He’s gone. Dust. Finished for ever.”

“But what happened to the dust?” the witch whispered, looking uneasily over her shoulder as if that skull-like face was about to appear, the grisly hands reach out to touch her.

“Who was The Master?” William asked cheerfully. “He sounds important.”

“He was a super vampire, head of the Clan of Orios,” Buffy said automatically, all her old loathing of the monster flooding back. “He killed me once. I killed him – twice. ”

William raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment. So much was strange at the moment that perhaps even this odd statement was normal in this place and time.

“Aurelius,” Willow muttered, unable not to correct her friend.

“Whatever! Do you mean you think the demon fire is some way of getting him – what – made whole again? He was dust, dusty bits of dusty dust. Splinters. You could have put what remained of his skull in that egg timer over there. How many times do I have to kill him? And it’s been years. Wouldn’t this have happened ages ago?”

“I don’t know, Buffy. It just seems such a coincidence that the demon fire is burning right about where his original grave was. Perhaps the dust and bits of bone were buried again by some demon –”

“And now he’s coming back!”

“Miss Buffy – I except that this is all speculation,” William broke in. “But remember the second line of the charm – ”

Buffy stared at him, the horror growing inside her. “The Old Returns,” she whispered, and rubbed her arms, which had suddenly gone cold.

To be continued











 
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