Part 15: Encounters of the Heated Kind
***THIS PART IS RATED Strong R***
#
Buffy skipped along the cemetery path, looking to finish her patrol early tonight. Her first meeting with Riley's people this afternoon had gone well, or so she thought, and tomorrow Angel would arrive in Sunnydale. She did not even worry about the whole telling-her-friends-that-Angel-was-human thing anymore. They would handle it and if her friends could not understand it, well, that would be their problem.
Things were definitely looking up, she thought, and she was determined that nothing and no one would ruin the coming weekend for her. A moment later she chided herself for the thought. Sunnydale was definitely not a jinx- free part of the world.
She quickly went over her mental list of current problems. Giles was still not a hundred percent sure whether or not Burke and his gang were on the level, but she had seen that the Watcher had been taken in by Weinheim's undisguised enthusiasm for the demonic. Until proof to the contrary presented itself Buffy was prepared to belief that they had done the right thing in joining up with the SDO (though she was determined to find a better name than that. There were too many three-letter acronyms in this world already).
The only other thing currently on her list was this Huntsman thing the Council had warned them about, but so far the young man called Jackson King had not made an appearance in her life. Maybe the Watchers had been wrong about his coming here.
About a minute later Buffy would condemn the universe for its very basic sense of the dramatic, for it chose that very moment to make the object of her thoughts appear right in front of her.
She was in a fighting stance before she recognized the young man, the dark shape leaping from the tree with catlike grace sent all her instincts into full alert. He landed in front of her and stood up straight, looking her directly in the eye from less than a kick's distance away.
He did not say anything, just looked at her. Buffy was about ready to throw a quip, followed by a punch, but somehow her mouth refused to work. Instead her eyes drank in the sight of her opposite. Dressed in a simple pair of blue jeans and a tight black shirt he was not the most impressive of sights, though quite handsome in a boyish way. His clean-shaven face and slightly pouting lips made him look younger than the eighteen years the Watchers' files had said he was.
His gaze locked with hers and, impressive or not, Buffy felt her mouth go dry.
"I've decided not to wait anymore," he told her, making a step forward.
Buffy just stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. What was going on here? By now she should be moving, running her mouth, doing something ... anything. The Watchers had said that this man was dangerous, that meeting him would have dangerous consequences. Not that she trusted the Watchers much these days, but she would not simply disregard a warning from them, either.
Her entire body was singing with tension, her heart hammering so violently that she feared it would break free of her chest. Her fists clenched and unclenched, sweat was beginning to form on her forehead even though she had barely moved a muscle.
What was happening to her?
"You feel it, too, don't you?" Jackson King asked, his voice barely more than a growl. He was panting, his face shimmering with sweat as well. She could see the muscles of his upper body tense under his tight shirt and she swallowed, unable to explain the strange reactions her body went through.
"Feel what?" she finally managed to ask, her voice shaky.
"Us," he answered, moving closer still. Barely a foot was between them now and she had to crane back her head to keep eye contact. "I've sought your presence across half the world. The Watchers did not want me to come here, but I knew that I had to."
Buffy wanted to take a step back, wanted to flee from whatever this man was doing to her, but her body refused to obey. It was all she could do to make herself stand still instead of doing what her every instinct urged her to do.
Which was quite the opposite of fleeing.
"I can feel you in my blood," Jackson whispered, his hand slowly rising to reach out and touch her. "Can't you feel it, too?"
She opened her mouth, wanted to deny feeling anything like that, but then his fingers softly touched her cheek. A white-hot sensation lanced through her body with that slight contact, pain and pleasure all wrapped together, and before she knew what was happening she leaped forward, tackling Jackson to the ground with a growl coming from her lips.
He responded in kind, all reason vanishing from his face to be replaced by pure animal passion. They rolled across the ground, entangled with each other, each trying to gain the dominant position. Buffy's skin was humming wherever it touched Jackson, the barrier of their clothing insufficient to dampen the sensations. All conscious thought seemed to flee from her, nothing existed but this other, the one to whom every fiber of her being was calling out.
Jackson ended up straddling her, his arousal evident against her pelvis, but she threw him off a moment later and was back on her feet, jumping him again. They tumbled backwards over a tombstone, crushing it beneath them as they struggled. Buffy dealt out blows without thinking, aware that they were not meant to defeat this opponent, just to show him her strength. Every contact seemed to spark electricity between them. Jackson responded, dishing out blows of his own, and she felt his strength where he hit her. He seemed ever bit as strong as she was. Every bit as fast, too.
All sense of time was lost as they fought, paying no heed to their surroundings. They crashed right through the wall of a crypt, barely feeling the impact as brick and mortar gave before their power. Both were sweating profusely now, their body temperatures spiking in a fever that hailed from somewhere deep inside them.
Buffy, her fingers curled into claws, ripped the black shirt off Jackson's chest, leaving four deep scratches on his skin in the process. His own fingers dug into the waistband of her jeans and she could hear the sound of fabric tearing.
Suddenly they found themselves interrupted by a hissing sound and looked up to find three vampires approaching them, salvia dripping from their exposed fangs, hunger in their inhuman eyes. The crypt they had tumbled into was a nest for the undead and the inhabitants were angry and looking to make a meal out of these disturbers.
Without even exchanging a look or a word the Slayer and the Huntsman moved, immediately attacking these new foes.
Two of the vampires did not even have time to react. Buffy was upon one of them, not a stake to be found, and drove her stiff fingers right through its throat. But moments later, using a foot on the vampire's chest for leverage, she tore off its head and reduced it to dust. Jackson, for his part, simply picked his vampire up bodily and threw him out the crypt door and into a tree, an extending branch spearing the creature right through the heart.
The third vampire mumbled something like "Oh, shit!" before they both grabbed him. He never even had a chance. Jackson held him and Buffy tore his head off his shoulders with barely even a strain.
Before the dust had even settled they were attacking each other again. The remains of Jackson's shirt vanished somewhere in the shadows and Buffy's jeans were so much tatters now, flapping loosely around her legs. They barely noticed, the only thing they were interested in was the battle at hand. Desperately clawing at each others bodies, wanting to be close even if it meant tearing the other wide open and wrapping the skin around oneself.
A violent attack by Buffy tore open Jackson's jeans from hip to ankle, leaving him all but naked before her. Moments later he grabbed her, lifting her into the air to smash her against one of the crypt's walls. The stone barely held up under their onslaught this time, cracking with the impact. Jackson moved in and Buffy's legs went around his body all by themselves, her mouth hungrily searching his as they kissed with abandon, looking to devour each other to still this strange hunger that had overcome them both.
Suddenly there was no barrier between them any longer and Jackson thrust deep into Buffy's body, grinding her back hard against the stone. The sensation of feeling him inside her penetrated right through the haze that had wrapped itself around her mind. The reality of the situation hit her with sudden crystal clarity.
Oh my God, what was she doing?
"Stop," she yelled, but Jackson was too far gone to hear her, thrusting into her again. Buffy dug her hands into his shoulders, trying to shake him off.
"Stop it, please!"
He did not hear her and it took three more tries until she finally managed to throw him off. Buffy crumbled against the wall, panting, shocked at what had just happened, refusing to believe that it really had. This was not her, it could not be her. She did not simply jump people and ...
Jackson was getting back to his feet, the wild look in his eyes clearly showing that he was not interested in stopping any time soon. And some part of Buffy did not want to stop, either. A part that seemed to grow stronger by the second.
Rationality won out, though, barely, and when he approached her once more Buffy delivered an uppercut that threw Jackson down again, dazed and barely conscious. Without waiting for him to recover Buffy gathered the tattered remains of her clothing around her and ran. She did not care where she was headed, she just wanted away from here. Her vision was obscured by tears of shame running freely from her eyes.
Oh, God! Oh, God! What was that? Why had she done that?
Her body was aching all over and she could still feel the screaming in her blood, a violent urge to turn around and finish what she had started. A dark, animalistic part of her mind was craving it, longing for it with an intensity that caused her knees to shake. It took every ounce of her strength to keep running, her thoughts in pure chaos.
What had she done? What had she done?
Without any conscious thought her feet were carrying her to the one place she felt she could go now. She could not head home and face her mother, not like this. Neither could she go to the dorms, the risk of meeting people she knew in those corridors was just too great. Xander's basement apartment was on the other side of town and Angel was still in Los Angeles, not that she would have wanted to face either of them in this condition.
Which left only Giles, the only one who might be able to explain to her what had just happened. Her body shaking with sobs of shame and fear Buffy arrived at his apartment and frantically pounded against the door.
#
When Jackson King recovered from the near-knockout blow he had received the Slayer was gone. This confused him greatly. Why had she left him? Why had she left when her own desire could no more be fulfilled than his own?
Something was still off, he realized. This night he had decided to take things into his own hands, no matter his feelings that something was still not right. This was how it should have happened from the start. Slayer and Huntsman, destined to meet in combat and passion. Destined to fight together against the dark and find pleasure in it the likes of which no mere human could ever hope to understand.
For some reason the Slayer, Buffy, had resisted. But why? She, too, must have felt the power they unleashed between them. He had seen it in her face, the feral grin of pure joy it had shown for those few precious minutes before she had fled from him. Now, with his own reason returning, he realized that her face had changed in the last seconds before she had clobbered him.
It had shown nothing but shame and fear.
Why? Why would she fear him, fear what was between them? Why would she be ashamed of it? Something had to be terribly wrong, something that needed to be fixed before destiny could run its course.
And it would. If he had ever had any doubts about that they were gone now. For a few brief minutes everything had been as it was intended, the Slayer and the Huntsman together in all ways, all things.
It would be thus again. Soon.
TO BE CONTINUED
***THIS PART IS RATED Strong R***
#
Buffy skipped along the cemetery path, looking to finish her patrol early tonight. Her first meeting with Riley's people this afternoon had gone well, or so she thought, and tomorrow Angel would arrive in Sunnydale. She did not even worry about the whole telling-her-friends-that-Angel-was-human thing anymore. They would handle it and if her friends could not understand it, well, that would be their problem.
Things were definitely looking up, she thought, and she was determined that nothing and no one would ruin the coming weekend for her. A moment later she chided herself for the thought. Sunnydale was definitely not a jinx- free part of the world.
She quickly went over her mental list of current problems. Giles was still not a hundred percent sure whether or not Burke and his gang were on the level, but she had seen that the Watcher had been taken in by Weinheim's undisguised enthusiasm for the demonic. Until proof to the contrary presented itself Buffy was prepared to belief that they had done the right thing in joining up with the SDO (though she was determined to find a better name than that. There were too many three-letter acronyms in this world already).
The only other thing currently on her list was this Huntsman thing the Council had warned them about, but so far the young man called Jackson King had not made an appearance in her life. Maybe the Watchers had been wrong about his coming here.
About a minute later Buffy would condemn the universe for its very basic sense of the dramatic, for it chose that very moment to make the object of her thoughts appear right in front of her.
She was in a fighting stance before she recognized the young man, the dark shape leaping from the tree with catlike grace sent all her instincts into full alert. He landed in front of her and stood up straight, looking her directly in the eye from less than a kick's distance away.
He did not say anything, just looked at her. Buffy was about ready to throw a quip, followed by a punch, but somehow her mouth refused to work. Instead her eyes drank in the sight of her opposite. Dressed in a simple pair of blue jeans and a tight black shirt he was not the most impressive of sights, though quite handsome in a boyish way. His clean-shaven face and slightly pouting lips made him look younger than the eighteen years the Watchers' files had said he was.
His gaze locked with hers and, impressive or not, Buffy felt her mouth go dry.
"I've decided not to wait anymore," he told her, making a step forward.
Buffy just stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. What was going on here? By now she should be moving, running her mouth, doing something ... anything. The Watchers had said that this man was dangerous, that meeting him would have dangerous consequences. Not that she trusted the Watchers much these days, but she would not simply disregard a warning from them, either.
Her entire body was singing with tension, her heart hammering so violently that she feared it would break free of her chest. Her fists clenched and unclenched, sweat was beginning to form on her forehead even though she had barely moved a muscle.
What was happening to her?
"You feel it, too, don't you?" Jackson King asked, his voice barely more than a growl. He was panting, his face shimmering with sweat as well. She could see the muscles of his upper body tense under his tight shirt and she swallowed, unable to explain the strange reactions her body went through.
"Feel what?" she finally managed to ask, her voice shaky.
"Us," he answered, moving closer still. Barely a foot was between them now and she had to crane back her head to keep eye contact. "I've sought your presence across half the world. The Watchers did not want me to come here, but I knew that I had to."
Buffy wanted to take a step back, wanted to flee from whatever this man was doing to her, but her body refused to obey. It was all she could do to make herself stand still instead of doing what her every instinct urged her to do.
Which was quite the opposite of fleeing.
"I can feel you in my blood," Jackson whispered, his hand slowly rising to reach out and touch her. "Can't you feel it, too?"
She opened her mouth, wanted to deny feeling anything like that, but then his fingers softly touched her cheek. A white-hot sensation lanced through her body with that slight contact, pain and pleasure all wrapped together, and before she knew what was happening she leaped forward, tackling Jackson to the ground with a growl coming from her lips.
He responded in kind, all reason vanishing from his face to be replaced by pure animal passion. They rolled across the ground, entangled with each other, each trying to gain the dominant position. Buffy's skin was humming wherever it touched Jackson, the barrier of their clothing insufficient to dampen the sensations. All conscious thought seemed to flee from her, nothing existed but this other, the one to whom every fiber of her being was calling out.
Jackson ended up straddling her, his arousal evident against her pelvis, but she threw him off a moment later and was back on her feet, jumping him again. They tumbled backwards over a tombstone, crushing it beneath them as they struggled. Buffy dealt out blows without thinking, aware that they were not meant to defeat this opponent, just to show him her strength. Every contact seemed to spark electricity between them. Jackson responded, dishing out blows of his own, and she felt his strength where he hit her. He seemed ever bit as strong as she was. Every bit as fast, too.
All sense of time was lost as they fought, paying no heed to their surroundings. They crashed right through the wall of a crypt, barely feeling the impact as brick and mortar gave before their power. Both were sweating profusely now, their body temperatures spiking in a fever that hailed from somewhere deep inside them.
Buffy, her fingers curled into claws, ripped the black shirt off Jackson's chest, leaving four deep scratches on his skin in the process. His own fingers dug into the waistband of her jeans and she could hear the sound of fabric tearing.
Suddenly they found themselves interrupted by a hissing sound and looked up to find three vampires approaching them, salvia dripping from their exposed fangs, hunger in their inhuman eyes. The crypt they had tumbled into was a nest for the undead and the inhabitants were angry and looking to make a meal out of these disturbers.
Without even exchanging a look or a word the Slayer and the Huntsman moved, immediately attacking these new foes.
Two of the vampires did not even have time to react. Buffy was upon one of them, not a stake to be found, and drove her stiff fingers right through its throat. But moments later, using a foot on the vampire's chest for leverage, she tore off its head and reduced it to dust. Jackson, for his part, simply picked his vampire up bodily and threw him out the crypt door and into a tree, an extending branch spearing the creature right through the heart.
The third vampire mumbled something like "Oh, shit!" before they both grabbed him. He never even had a chance. Jackson held him and Buffy tore his head off his shoulders with barely even a strain.
Before the dust had even settled they were attacking each other again. The remains of Jackson's shirt vanished somewhere in the shadows and Buffy's jeans were so much tatters now, flapping loosely around her legs. They barely noticed, the only thing they were interested in was the battle at hand. Desperately clawing at each others bodies, wanting to be close even if it meant tearing the other wide open and wrapping the skin around oneself.
A violent attack by Buffy tore open Jackson's jeans from hip to ankle, leaving him all but naked before her. Moments later he grabbed her, lifting her into the air to smash her against one of the crypt's walls. The stone barely held up under their onslaught this time, cracking with the impact. Jackson moved in and Buffy's legs went around his body all by themselves, her mouth hungrily searching his as they kissed with abandon, looking to devour each other to still this strange hunger that had overcome them both.
Suddenly there was no barrier between them any longer and Jackson thrust deep into Buffy's body, grinding her back hard against the stone. The sensation of feeling him inside her penetrated right through the haze that had wrapped itself around her mind. The reality of the situation hit her with sudden crystal clarity.
Oh my God, what was she doing?
"Stop," she yelled, but Jackson was too far gone to hear her, thrusting into her again. Buffy dug her hands into his shoulders, trying to shake him off.
"Stop it, please!"
He did not hear her and it took three more tries until she finally managed to throw him off. Buffy crumbled against the wall, panting, shocked at what had just happened, refusing to believe that it really had. This was not her, it could not be her. She did not simply jump people and ...
Jackson was getting back to his feet, the wild look in his eyes clearly showing that he was not interested in stopping any time soon. And some part of Buffy did not want to stop, either. A part that seemed to grow stronger by the second.
Rationality won out, though, barely, and when he approached her once more Buffy delivered an uppercut that threw Jackson down again, dazed and barely conscious. Without waiting for him to recover Buffy gathered the tattered remains of her clothing around her and ran. She did not care where she was headed, she just wanted away from here. Her vision was obscured by tears of shame running freely from her eyes.
Oh, God! Oh, God! What was that? Why had she done that?
Her body was aching all over and she could still feel the screaming in her blood, a violent urge to turn around and finish what she had started. A dark, animalistic part of her mind was craving it, longing for it with an intensity that caused her knees to shake. It took every ounce of her strength to keep running, her thoughts in pure chaos.
What had she done? What had she done?
Without any conscious thought her feet were carrying her to the one place she felt she could go now. She could not head home and face her mother, not like this. Neither could she go to the dorms, the risk of meeting people she knew in those corridors was just too great. Xander's basement apartment was on the other side of town and Angel was still in Los Angeles, not that she would have wanted to face either of them in this condition.
Which left only Giles, the only one who might be able to explain to her what had just happened. Her body shaking with sobs of shame and fear Buffy arrived at his apartment and frantically pounded against the door.
#
When Jackson King recovered from the near-knockout blow he had received the Slayer was gone. This confused him greatly. Why had she left him? Why had she left when her own desire could no more be fulfilled than his own?
Something was still off, he realized. This night he had decided to take things into his own hands, no matter his feelings that something was still not right. This was how it should have happened from the start. Slayer and Huntsman, destined to meet in combat and passion. Destined to fight together against the dark and find pleasure in it the likes of which no mere human could ever hope to understand.
For some reason the Slayer, Buffy, had resisted. But why? She, too, must have felt the power they unleashed between them. He had seen it in her face, the feral grin of pure joy it had shown for those few precious minutes before she had fled from him. Now, with his own reason returning, he realized that her face had changed in the last seconds before she had clobbered him.
It had shown nothing but shame and fear.
Why? Why would she fear him, fear what was between them? Why would she be ashamed of it? Something had to be terribly wrong, something that needed to be fixed before destiny could run its course.
And it would. If he had ever had any doubts about that they were gone now. For a few brief minutes everything had been as it was intended, the Slayer and the Huntsman together in all ways, all things.
It would be thus again. Soon.
TO BE CONTINUED