Buffy the Vampire Slayer: Sexydale

The ritual was carried out in exacting detail. First he drew the chalk outlines, so carefully that he only marked an inch with every minute that passed. It took him five hours. Then the ululations, strange and ill-shaped words that didn't fit in his mouth, that made his throat feel like a gasoline engine turning over and revving up. He spoke those for two hours.

Finally, the animal sacrifice. He grasped the chicken, held it over the floor despite how it pecked and scratched at his arm, then drove the dagger into it, deep enough that the point almost hit him when it came out the other side. As the blood dribbled out, he ran it in concentric circles over the chalk ideogram, activating the countless minor spells of the ritual one by one.

At long last, it was finished. He could feel the power rising. He could feel the spell working.

He could feel himself growing hard.

***

Cordelia didn't know what the worst part of this 'patrol' bullshit was. She didn't have to stay shut up in the library with that creepy old perv Giles doing research, or hang out with Princess B-Cup in the mall after dark hunting that Monistat Demon or whatever it was.

But she had to walk through the cold, creepy cemetery at night, her hair getting all brittle and precious sleep-hours being removed from her skin, while Willow Rosenberg tagged along like some teacher's pet out to make sure no one was having any fun.

She probably didn't mind wasting her beauty sleep on trudging through a misty old graveyard. What was the worst that could happen to her looks? She'd already been born a ginger.

"So," Willow said, sounding less nervous than usual in talking to Cordelia. Great, Willow was getting used to being in conversation with her. Next thing you knew they'd be bonding. "How're things with Xander?"

"Besides the fact that he's the Dr. Kevorkian of ending my social life? Absolutely great, Wills. How're things with your Troll doll collection?"

"They're Cabbage Patch Dolls," Willow replied, more appropriately sullen. But she got a second wind. Must've been the rush of endorphins from all that running she did through Xander's friend zone. "Why do you act like you're not dating him? We've all seen you, y'know, dating him? Buffy walked in you after you'd been... dating him for a while."

Cordelia stopped, leaning against a gravestone and ignoring Willow's little yap of offense. "First off, Xander may've dated, I didn't. Not that I would've 'dated' if he stuck his whole fist inside me, but trust me, he's a long way from getting anything inside me and I'm a long way from 'dating' him. So think of us as friends with benefits, without the friends and with very few benefits where I'm concerned."

Willow swallowed her indignation over Cordelia profaning sacred ground. It was a cross-shaped headstone, after all. "That's what I mean. Why are you dating him, or not dating him, or almost dating him—"

"He wishes 'almost," Cordelia muttered.

Willow pressed on bravely: "If you don't even like him. Since I'm sure there are a lot of women who would love to date him if he'd love to date them too..."

"Not enough wine coolers in the world for 'almost'. He'd have to buy absinthe to get me almost dating him—" Cordelia condescended not to ignore Willow for a moment. "And who are these women that would love to date him? Can't be you, he's ever so slightly too masculine for a lesbian—"

"I'm not a lesbian."

"Are we talking about that praying mantis he tried to have sex with?"

"I had sex with Oz."

"Or that mummy he tried to have sex with?"

"Oz is pretty manly. He has body hair. Sideburns..."

"Hunh. I wonder if Xander thinks I'm a demon or something. Maybe he just has a fetish. That is so like him to have a fetish."

Willow shook off her own train of thought. "You didn't tell me why you're dating him."

"I don't know," Cordelia said off-handedly. "Guys like it when girls are in a relationship. Makes them feel like they're in a competition. Single girls are just pathetic." Cordelia glanced at Willow. "If I said no offense, would you believe me?"

"So you're just going to leave Xander as soon as some guy you really like comes... courting you!" Willow gasped.

"Like he's not gonna leave me as soon as some gargoyle hits on him," Cordelia replied bitterly.

"He wouldn't," Willow said. "He really likes you. And he's actually really sensitive, so if you're not, you know, really dating him, maybe you shouldn't? Because, uh, that should be a special thing, not just... a non-special type thing."

"You're right," Cordelia said. "He is really sensitive. And not much with the body hair. Maybe you should date him. Once I'm bored of him eating me out, of course."

"Wait, what?"

Cordelia took out her stake and mimed sucking it for a moment. "Geez, are you sure vampires come out of these graves? I think Buffy just comes up here to make out with Angel. She's totally goth under all those pastels, like her black roots under all that peroxide. You ever wonder if she's part Mexican?"

A vampire arrived before Willow could decide which should come first, telling Cordy that Buffy wasn't Mexican or telling her that it didn't matter whether or not she was the least bit Mexican.

This vampire was not one of the scavengers they might've hoped to take off the playing board in a war of attrition with the forces of darkness; an easy target who'd been preyed upon and had now turned, and would go after other easy targets in turn. Not doing much damage, but gathering up in numbers to serve this year's fall Big Bad, increasing vacuum cleaner sales throughout the region.

No, this was six foot five of nasty muscle, a future Angelus or Spike, the demon in him fitting to its twisted new body like it was a second skin.

Cordelia took one look at him and ran.

Willow took one look at him, considered whether she knew and could work any spells that would work better than a firm lecture, decided the firm lecture had a better chance of working than any spell she cared to attempt, and ran. She was a quick thinker. She started running almost as soon as Cordelia had.

The vampire bounded after them, face shifting instantly into a gnarled mask, long nails extending from its fingers to snatch at them. They clawed into Cordelia's minidress, snagging in it and tearing shreds from it, and Cordelia was so scared she couldn't even much care that a crime against fashion was being committed between her shoulder blades.

Willow had outpaced her—who would've guessed the little redhead would know more about running except that it was what men did in the other direction?—and was at a crypt, throwing the door open, hurling herself inside right ahead of Cordelia. And Cordelia was right behind her, only the vampire's nails sunk into her dress again, this time getting a solid grip. Cordelia threw herself forward regardless, trying to unbalance the vampire like she was deliberately fucking up a cheer routine.

Cordelia wasn't a bulimic like some of the girls on the cheer team, cough, Harmony, cough cough. She had meat on her bones, as Xander put it; her brain stubbornly refused to come up with better phrasing. The point was, she might've been tall and leggy, but she had some voluptuousness on her. Full breasts, womanly hips. If it were Harmony, or a midget like Willow, the tug of war with the vampire would've ended with her being yanked back out into the night and getting used as a human scratching post.

But, since she was Cordelia, her routines required exquisite muscles, and she ate both well and healthily: when she threw herself forward, her weight overcame the force the vampire exerted pulling her back, at least long enough for the material of her dress to fail to overcome that force. It ripped right off her, she hurled into the crypt, and Willow slammed the doors shut in the vampire's face.

Immediately, Cordelia realized what Willow already had: the reason the doors hadn't been locked in the first place. They locked from the inside, with a medieval locking bar mounted on brackets—proving that there were as many dead crazies in Sunnydale as there were live ones. Not being able to bar the door from the outside, the cemetery groundskeepers had just left it unlocked. Now, though, Cordelia helped Willow move the locking bar into place, keeping the vampire out.

Then the door resounded with a hideous crash. The entire crypt seemed to shake. And it seemed dead certain the vampire would get in sooner rather than later.

"Oh God!" Willow cried, hands pressed to her cheeks. "God, it's coming in here!"

"It wants me!" Cordelia said. "Why do I have to look so tasty? Why can't this dumb freak have shitty taste in women, like Oz?"

"Hey!" Willow complained, looking over at Cordelia.

And suddenly rethinking whether or not she was a lesbian.

Cordelia looked amazing in just her bra and panties. A black bra caged her breasts, and they tried to escape with each breath, heaving over the contours of her cups with a steady throb like they were slipping free more and more with every passing second.

Her cleavage swelled heavily there, under her mane of dark hair, showing just how powerfully they pushed from her body. After that, her body narrowed appreciably at her waist: not as if she were wearing a corset, but with the graceful curve of a wave crisply coming into shallow water. After that brief dip, her hourglass figure resumed, her ass full and buoyant, her thighs firm, her legs extending into slender muscle down to her delicate calves, where ankle boots almost snidely reminded that she should be clothed, wearing more than a low-cut bra and boy-cut panties.

"I cannot fucking believe this," Cordelia said, and Willow gulped enough saliva to fill a water cooler as she realized that Cordelia had noticed, that Cordelia knew, holy hell, that she was gay or a little gay or maybe even a lot gay. What'd they call that? Bisexual?

"I'm sorry—" Willow said, but Cordelia ignored her so hard that Willow realized no, Cordelia really wasn't apt to notice anything but herself, and even that only to a limited degree.

"I actually wish I was dating Xander Harris."

"You—you do?" Willow sputtered.

The door rattled again, the locking bar bending inward an inch with either half of the double doors.

Cordelia somehow managed to ignore it, like it was just one more thing not worthy of her time. "I mean, I did 'date' him—not date-date him, but he dated me with his fingers a lot and I did date a few times—with his fingers—it didn't take any wine coolers at all. I could've been dated so much!"

"I think we're mixing this metaphor a lot. With many different things. Until there's barely any metaphor left."

Cordelia noticed her in so much as she sneered. Then her eyes widened. Her lips curled triumphantly. "Ha!" she cried.

"What? Is there a way out?"

"Is there?" Cordelia asked, looking around belatedly, as if somehow they just hadn't noticed one before. Not like I could count on Willow to notice one, she can't even notice she's gay... "No, not that, Xander!"

"What about Xander?" Willow asked, meaning what else about Xander?

"I did it! I got the last laugh! If he were here, about to die, this is where he'd say 'hey baby, Star Wars Star Wars Star Wars, you don't want to die a virgin, do you?' And no, I wouldn't! But since he's not here, he doesn't get to have sex with me! Ha!" Cordelia cried again.

"But he's not going to die," Willow pointed out.

"He's a boy. That's secondary," Cordelia replied. "In fact, this really is a win/win situation. If he were here, I could get in a quick date, but since he's not, he's going to spend the rest of his life remembering how great I was."

For once, Willow found herself wishing that Xander's crush on Buffy would pan out. "I guess it would be nice... not dying a virgin. I mean, it's also nice that Xander's not going to die..."

"I thought you had sex with Oz."

You actually listened to me? Willow thought, shortly followed by that would be when you listened to me. "We did," she said. "I mean, I did, I mean, we did together. But we didn't... do it a lot? If he were here, and we were gonna die, I would want to die even less a virgin, I suppose."

"I would want to die even less a virgin, too," Cordelia said. "If Xander were here. Or if Oz were here, I suppose. Or even if..."

She trailed off leadingly.

"If?" Willow asked, breathless.

"If Buffy were here," Cordelia said.

With a huff, Willow glued her mouth to Cordelia's opening lips, her tongue swiftly entering Cordelia's mouth, her mound pushing warmly at Cordelia's panties and finding that her warm body and Cordelia's warm body made for a very heated embrace.

***

Neither of them had noticed that the vampire had stopped ramming the door. In fact, he had cracked it sometime ago, a wide crack, quite large enough for him to reach inside, remove the obstruction, and open the door to freely enter.

He probably would've done so, if it hadn't been for what he found the two women doing.

He was hungry as hell, but that could wait. This was dinner and a show.

***

Cordelia softened, enjoying the lithe redhead's lips, her tongue. Willow's hands circled around Cordelia's naked waist, just above the band of her panties, and pulled to draw their groins more snugly together. Cordelia tried to ignore it, but Willow stroked her hips with soft motions, and Cordelia shivered.

Her long legs opened, standing wider apart, helplessly trying to decrease the perfect tension knotting inside her by relieving the pressure on her sex, but it had nothing to do with her thighs. She whined into Willow's mouth as the redhead kept kissing her. And, trembling, she stroked Willow's body through the thin material of her flower print shirt. She felt Willow's nipples stiffen, felt her own clit tingle.

Willow tore her mouth free, breathing unevenly. "Please, can we do more than kiss? I'd really like to do more than kiss. I'd like to do more than kiss you—you're really beautiful, I never realized how beautiful, and your lips are really nice, I really like them, I'd love to keep kissing you, but I'd like all the other things too—"

Cordelia grinned at her. "I knew it!" She enjoyed the flicker of discomfort she saw go through Willow, weakening her, but also felt a little bad about it. She tried to crush her own concern for Willow under another insult. "Sure you wouldn't be happier with Xander?"

"Would you?" Willow retorted.

"I'm sure he'd like you," Cordelia giggled. "Guys love redheads. Did you know he's ten inches long?"

"I, uh," Willow gasped, "I... is that a lot?"

"I let him rub it between my thighs," Cordelia teased, pulling off her bra, stepping out of her panties. "It makes me go crazy, not having it in my pussy. I can feel it throbbing."

"You're such a—" Willow lowered her shirts, revealing white panties. "Such a—" She lifted her blouse off her belly and away from her shoulders. "I would rather kiss him. I would rather kiss anyone!"

"Welcome to my world," Cordelia retorted, and pushed Willow to fall across the sarcophagus that the crypt centered around. No way in hell she was going to be on bottom for this.

***

Xander knew this was stupid. He was wandering a misty graveyard at night, alone, and much as he hated to admit it, he was technically a comely version. There weren't many horror movies that would end with him and Jamie Lee Curtis riding off into the sunset.

But he didn't have much choice. His best friend and someone who was probably a friend, and most definitely a girl, were patrolling together. If they got along, they'd gossip about him, and he didn't think Cordy would ever see him in a sexual light again if she knew what'd happened at his sixth birthday party. And if they didn't get along, one of them—well, Cordelia—was liable to say something insanely damaging, getting them both pissed off at each other, making them force him to pick sides, and that would suck.

Plus, there was always the chance they'd be eaten by zombies without a big manly man around.

So Xander was wandering their patrol route, keeping an eye out for them and clutching his stake tightly, when he came across another guy. Standing in the entrance to a crypt. Clutching his stake. Tightly. And he was masturbating. A subject Xander knew unfortunately much about, if not what other guys' techniques were. Or something the least bit edifying, like how Alyssa Milano did it.

Frankly, hauling your dick out in a cemetery and jerking off on a crypt seemed like exactly the kind of shit a vampire would do—probably Angel's idea of a hot Friday night—so instead of pointing out that this was a family cemetery, Xander held his stake close, crept up behind the guy, and saw enough to know that the guy was definitely a vampire. Jerking off was supposed to make you look like you were turning Japanese, not into a Klingon. Ask any Top 40 hit.

He wanted to move faster, get his slay on already, especially since by now he could hear the guy grunting and groaning and please, God, don't make me sound like that when it's my alone time. But despite his revulsion and his fear, he moved slowly, carefully, and miraculously, Pee-Wee Herman didn't notice a thing until Xander was right behind him with a stake through his heart.

"And that's why you use lotion," Xander quipped as the vamp dusted, though on second thought, he doubted Sean Connery or Arnold Schwarzenegger would admit such a familiarity with Rosie Palms and her five sisters, even to a guy that was crumbling into loam. Then again, maybe he'd feel worse, knowing he'd gotten murdered by a chronic masturbator (as if there were people who just masturbated once and then never again, c'mon).

Thanks to a slight, undiagnosed case of ADD, Xander thought all of this in the time it took for the vampire to fall apart and for the subsequent dust to clear, revealing the sight he'd been focused on. What was that? Some kind of Goro thing? A giant spider with human limbs for all its legs? Xander carefully studied it until he caught a flash of white. That was someone's ass. A snowy white ass jutting up in the air.

There were freckles on it.

For a guy who liked drinking blood and hated garlic, the vamp had good taste in women...

***

Her legs apart, her cunt arched upward, auburn bush opened down the center to show her swelling labia, the stiff pink clit peeking out at the top. Cordelia could see it right through her panties; her breasts, small but beautiful and high and thrusting, inside a lacy white bra. With it in place, her breasts were pure white on one side, riddled with freckles on the other. It filled Cordelia with an absurd desire to rip that bra away.

She crawled onto the sarcophagus, right between Willow's spread thighs, Willow unable to take her eyes off the pendulous breasts swaying under Cordelia's body, the nipples large and dark, swinging in and out of view with every motion of foot and outstretched hand. She stopped, hovering over Willow, and pulled the redhead's panties down her thighs. Willow didn't think it was a coincidence that Cordy left them around her knees, trapping Willow's legs together.

Then Cordelia lowered herself onto Willow. Their cunts melted together, their breasts squeezed close, and Cordelia started grinding herself against Willow's pussy in a way that Willow could only compare to her hand, in a way that her hand couldn't possibly compare to.

"Uhhh, that's good!" Willow breathed, trying a little to join in how Cordelia bucked against her, but each time being pressed back down against the cold stone by Cordelia's voluptuous body. She wanted to be encouraging: "That's really good, Cordy! I like it a lot!"