Summary Buffy makes a wish and finds Ripper and Ethan on the other side
Rating NC17 Het, Slash, multiple
Disclaimer No quality fanfiction was harmed in the writing of this story.
Any injured copyrights were unintentional
Notes Thanks to Scarlettgirl for planting the original seed to this in a parking garage in downtown Philly,
to Mydeira for starting it and then letting me take over (large chunks of the first three chapters are hers, so share the love),
and to Wickedfox for the absolutely amazing graphic she made to go with it!
Chapter 6
Ripper pulled away slowly, causing both of them to groan as he withdrew, and leaned back against the far wall. Ethan turned around and mirrored him, their heavy breathing matched as they recovered themselves. Neither of them seemed embarrassed by their nudity in her presence, eyes focused solely on each other, and for a moment Buffy thought they had forgotten her presence again. But then Ethan turned his head to face her. “Everything alright, love?”
“Deidre’s here,” she answered abruptly, not trusting herself to say more.
That got them both moving. “What the bloody hell is she doing here?” Ripper swore as he stuffed himself back in his trousers and zipped them up roughly. “I thought the cow was meeting us at the club.”
Ethan closed his pants with more finesse. “I suspect she’s feeling a bit threatened.” He threw a wicked grin at Buffy. “Good thing she’s not my problem.”
“I’m making her your problem. Get rid of her. I have to shower and get ready.”
Buffy cut off Ethan’s protest. “Oh no, you don’t!” Shoving the bag into Ethan’s surprised hands, she stepped between the two of them to block the bathroom door. “I’ve already had to face off with her, I get the shower first!”
Ripper glowered at her. “And if I say no? What are you going to do about it?”
“Simple.” She raised her voice. “Deidre, could you come here for a minute? Ripper wants a word.”
Ripper’s growl overpowered Ethan’s laughter. “Why, you little bitch,” Ripper stepped towards her threateningly.
“You know, if you keep calling me that, I might start to act like one.” And with that, she closed the door in his surprised face.
Grateful for the relative privacy, at least for a few minutes, she turned on the taps in the tub before looking around. The bathroom wasn’t much better than the kitchen, but she did manage to find a clean towel. There were a couple kinds of shampoo to choose from, but only one bar of soap, still damp from Ethan’s shower. She tried not to think about the intimacy of that as the hot water beat down on her. The electric shock of her knuckle accidentally nudging against her outer lips when she washed between her legs was harder to ignore. What did it say about her that she got turned on watching two men fucking? She really wasn’t ready to examine that too closely.
Wonder of wonders, there was a hair dryer. It was enormous and only had one setting, on, but it was enough to spare her the shapeless rag of her hair if it air dried. She toweled off before wrapping the towel around herself and set to work on her hair. Then she brushed her teeth, using the one damp brush just to be safe, used the facilities and then, after first peeking out into the hallway to be sure the coast was clear, headed into the bedroom to get dressed.
Her own clothes were nowhere to be found. They were probably still out in the living room, which meant that whatever else had happened last night, she spent at least some part of it naked in front of everyone. She sighed. She was going to have to ask someone just what had happened. It was too difficult and unnerving not knowing. Pulling out the dresser drawers, she searched quickly for something decent. In the bottom she actually found some women’s clothes, a silky spindle skirt and a couple of frilly tops. She slipped on the skirt, but bypassed the blouses for a loose white poet shirt in a soft linen. She found a couple of bras, none of which fit her, but to her surprise no underpants. It was too easy to picture them keeping a collection as trophies of all their conquests, although she had the feeling Ripper’s would be bigger than Ethan’s. A pair of black men’s dress socks finished the look.
The mirror over the dresser reflected back a reasonable facsimile of a seventies waif. Her hair was still stick straight, and, devoid of makeup, her skin looked even paler than normal. Spotting an eyeliner pencil on the dresser top, she recalled the look she had sported the evening before and decided to emulate it, picking up the pencil to trace the dark outlines of her eyes.
The door opened and Ripper came in, fresh from his own shower. He had a grubby white towel tucked around his waist and his skin glowed with a damp sheen. His hair had been towel dried and he hadn’t bothered to comb it, leaving it strewn about in tousled waves that invited her to run her fingers through it.
Buffy’s heart started pounding, but she didn’t turn around to face him. Instead she focused on finishing her makeup, trying not to jab herself in the eye with her trembling hand, all the while stealing glances at him in the mirror.
He dropped his dirty clothes in a pile in the corner before opening the closet to pull out a pair of leather pants and a vest and laying them out on the bed. He looked over towards the dresser, and she saw his eyes narrow as he studied her. As though he knew she was watching him, he deliberately removed his towel, dropping it on the pile with the dirty clothes before circling the bed to approach her.
He was hard again.
He stopped barely a foot behind her, watching her in the mirror as she tried to finish the job on her eyes. Finally he said, “You still wet?”
Buffy fought to ignore the innuendo in his voice. “If I were wet, I wouldn’t have gotten dressed now, would I?”
“Not the kind of wet I meant.” Ripper’s eyes studied hers in the mirror as he moved closer, but all she could focus on was his hand coming to rest lightly on her waist, his fingers drifting in blatant suggestion over the front of her hip. “I saw you watching us in the hall,” he went on, his voice lowered to a more seductive range. “You were breathing almost as hard as we were, and your pretty face was all flushed.” His other hand pushed aside her shirt to slide underneath, caressing her stomach before coasting up to cup her breast. “And your mouth was so red and open, like the only thing in the world you wanted to do in that moment was drop to your knees and start sucking him off.”
She was quickly getting lost in his words and his touch, but she wasn’t willing to let him know that. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she insisted as forcefully as she could manage.
“Oh no?” And faster than she would have believed, he snatched up the hem of her skirt and slid his hand over her thigh to trace through her swollen folds.
She couldn’t hold back the cry of pleasure as her hands slapped down on the dresser top to support her when he stroked back and forth, the rough guitar string calluses on his fingertips slick with her arousal as they stroked up over her clit.
“Tsk, tsk.” Ripper leaned closer, still fondling her breast as he fingered her. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to fib?” She could feel his hot breath against her hair and the prominence of his erection pressing into the flesh of her backside. “So wet. A man could drown in you.”
“Stop,” she begged, not caring how urgent she sounded.
“Don’t want to.” The hand toying with her breast pulled away to course up the back of her neck, catching her hair up between his splayed fingers. He closed his fist and used the grip to tip her head to the side, allowing him clear access to caress his lips up the sensitive vein along her throat, coming to rest at her earlobe. “And the truth is, you don’t want me to, either.”
She whimpered in desperate pleasure as he pressed two broad fingers up into her channel. She wanted to deny him, but her body betrayed her with a fresh rush of fluid as it readied itself for him.
He nuzzled against her hair as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of her. “Wanna fuck you, Annie. Wanna feel those tight Slayer muscles squeeze around me, wanna hear you scream my name when you come.”
She had to make him stop, although his thumb resting on her clit made it impossible to think straight. “What about Ethan?”
“Ethan can fuck you later.” He withdrew his fingers and caught up her skirt, using his grip on her hair to bend her down over the dresser as he pushed the fabric up over her back. “Such a pretty ass you have. All round and inviting . . .”
Buffy couldn’t hold her head up as his coarse hand caressed over the sensitive skin of her exposed backside. “Please,” she begged again, hoarse with need, “we have to stop.”
The heavy weight of his cock rested against her ass, sliding back and forth in anticipation. He tugged her hair up until she met his gaze in the mirror. “You could make it stop if you really wanted to. You’re a Slayer, Annie. Make me.”
It was a challenge. And Buffy knew if she didn’t rise to it, it would give him power over her. But in that moment she didn’t give a damn about power. She just needed to feel him.
With a lost moan, she circled her hips back against him.
His grin was predatory as he shifted his position, his cock sliding through the wet track of her folds. He bent his knees and rose up, and suddenly he was buried inside her.
This time her cry was copied by his own hoarse groan of pleasure. He was just as eager for more as she was, pulling back quickly to slam in again. “Ah, yeah,” he murmured, quickly setting a pounding pace. “So wet and eager. Knew you’d feel good.”
She stopped resisting, pushing back to meet him with equal force, lost in the feel of him filling her over and over, the heavy slap of his balls against her already sensitive clit.
Last night, what she remembered of it, had been good. This was better. There were no crossed wires, no confused sensations to interfere with the pure, primal pleasure he brought with each thrust. “God, Ripper!” she moaned as her orgasm tightened inside her.
He jerked her head up higher, making her scalp tingle. “Say it again,” he growled, fucking harder.
She surrendered. “Ripper!”
“Such a good girl.” His free hand moved under her to rasp over her throbbing clit again. “Now come for me, Annie.”
She exploded. His name echoed back at her off the mirror as she cried out, bucking fiercely beneath him.
“Oh god, yeah.” He let go of her hair to grip her hips in both hands, never slowing his thrusts as she came around him. “So tight, so strong, god, Annie!” He came as hard and fast as he’d fucked her, the jolts setting off aftershocks to her own release that left her limp and sated.
He recovered quicker than she did. Straightening up, he coasted his hand over her hair almost affectionately before drawing her upright and allowing her skirt to fall back into place. There was a soft tap at the door. “Annie?” Ethan asked from the other side. “You about ready? We have to get going if we don’t want to be late.”
Buffy looked in the mirror. Her skin was flushed and her previously straight hair now a tousled mess. She could see Ripper watching her, his face expressionless. “Yeah, I’m coming,” she called, doing the best she could to finger comb her hair back into place.
Ripper snorted, making her regret her choice of words.
She was starting to regret a lot of things.