FIC :: Filks & Fables (2/3)

["C S Armitage" <soren_nyrond@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

TITLE: Filks & Fables (2/3) 
AUTHOR: Soren Nyrond
DISCLAIMER: Characters in this part belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. 
SUMMARY: It's got Buffy and Willow in it; it's another in the series; it will end eventually.
SPOILERS: None except that this bit is again (to all intents) smut-less
AUTHOR'S NOTES: All nice feedback welcome. Thanks again to all those who've written so far.

 
   
Filks and Fables - - Part 2

  

The man on the horse knew nothing of where Giles had been taken. He had simply been paid good gold (which they took from him) to organise the ambush.There were ambushes all around the Chateau, so that from whichever way the Slayer and her Witch approached, they would be intercepted.

 

"They not only know we're coming," Willow observed, "but they know who we are."

"Well, I don't fancy fighting any more of this sort," Buffy said, looking at the peacefully-sleeping ambush-organiser. "I'm tempted ."

"No killing," Willow said, starting to hang on to Buffy's sword arm (she had recovered the rapier, for the style if for no more): "Anyway, when he wakes up, he'll have forgotten all about us."

Buffy looked down at her clever and compassionate witch. She wasn't keen on wanton killing (or char-sui killing, if it came to that), and her love had found a way round it.

They kissed, and cuddled and .

"Doesn't this bodice unfasten ?" Buffy asked.

Willow, however, had other things on her mind: Buffy's too-small and open-fronted shirt and her bra-less state meant that her breasts were oh so easily teased out into the open, and she could indulge herself in kissing and licking Buffy's nipples, watching as they crinkled up and then softened again.

It wasn't missing Buffy either - but she was getting limited chance to reciprocate (the bodice seemed to hold Willow's breasts in, rather than lettingthem top out the top) and also a serious distension problem where her clitty was pressing against that centre-seam in her skin-tight pants. She didn't even dare wriggle, for fear the pants would become damply unwearable from a thundering orgasm.

 

Finally she got Willow's mind away from her loving attentions, and onto ThePlot.

"Check me on this - we're expected and there are ambushes set."

"Check," Willow replied, tried to swat a nipple as it peeked out from Buffy's dishevelled décolletage.

"We have no idea where Giles is."

"Check."

"And stop doing that, Willow Rosenberg ! And we don't know what to do elseto get us home."

"We need another gate," Willow said, practically (the nipple having been hidden, by virtue of Buffy using her free hand to hold her shirt together (even if that did meant that both nipples were being squeezed against the fabric, setting up another series of concomitant sensations some inches to the metaphorical south).

"P . pardon ?"

"Everywhere we've gone - even with the book - we've gone through a gate. It stands to reason the way out will be another one."

"Pardon me, but why ?" (Watch it, Buffy told herself, now I'm channelling Cordelia).

"Trust me, Buff - it's good magickal practice: once you're achieving good results by a method, refine that method rather than looking for another one that might not be as effective for you."

"Sort of 'don't try to fix what ain't busted' ?"

"You got it." And as a reward Buffy got a hug and a big wet sloppy kiss onthe lips. Which she would normally have liked. But her nipples had just calmed down and now, with an energetic Rosenberg squeezing her chest, and wriggling, they were getting all charged up again.

 

 

The Chateau proved to be about a mile further on, set in its own toy valley, with shampoo-white sheep being attended by shepherdesses in outfits everybit as practical as what Willow was wearing. Fortunately there were also groves of artistically-shaped bushes, and little sylvan courtyards with fountains, and Buffy and Willow were able to creep through them unseen.

There was a secluded bower, for which Willow had very definite intentions -"There might be a vampire in there, Buffy - we could go and look." - whichBuffy, with infinite regrets, felt she couldn't live up to (for one thing she was now convinced that, of all they were wearing, only her shirt and boots, and Willow's pretty (but impractical) slippers, could be taken off).

 

Finally they reached the side-door to the Chateau. Buffy was just pondering the options: beat it in, try to jimmy it herself, or call on Will (who was currently trying to find what she felt was an acceptable rhyme for 'wooing') for magic help, when a liveried footman opened the door and looked out.Because the doorstep was quite high, Buffy found that her head came about halfway up his chest, so, when he looked at her, looked at Willow, and started to react, and when, quickly, before he could raise the alarm, Buffy thumped him, her first rendered him gaspingly unable to do very much. Buffy grabbed him, pushed him inwards, and rolled the agonised form under a convenient banquette. Then she glanced outside again.

"Milady Willow, we're in. Time to hustle your bustle."

 

The Chateau was quite a size: larger than the Sunnydale Museum, certainly. With no idea of why they were there (but a good inference they could do tobe there, if only because Someone had been so insistent on having them ambushed before they got there) Buffy and Willow were reduced to roaming corridors. In one of her more lucid intervals Willow had tried her rowan rod again, but even with double-strength power put in, the spell seemed totally inconclusive: for once they were left with no clues.

"We need Scooby," Buffy said: "Give him a snack and he always comes through."

"I know what else comes through," Willow said, and tweaked one of Buffy's nipples, which were peeping out from her shirt again.

Throwing caution to the winds, Buffy turned on Willow and ravaged her mouthover and over again, in a paroxysm of lustful release. But, to her continued frustration, that was still all that their clothes allowed her to do. Smoochies, yes: snugglies, it seemed, no.

 

And then something halfway up a staircase caught her eye.

"Willow - Will: I need you to concentrate."
"Oh, sorry, Buffy: my mind seems to keep wandering off. What is it ?"

"What period of history would you say we're in ?"

Willow frowned and pouted, then looked up, her eyes clear and bright: "You're wearing a fencing sword, and tight pants, I'm wearing some kind of post-Colonial skirt; but I don't think this is America, because of the toy sheepand the expensive fittings. Say mid-18th century Europe ?"

Buffy nodded (not because she agreed on a rational level, but because she wanted to keep Willow with her) and pointed:

"So what would you say a TV-VCR is doing here, halfway up a staircase ?"

Willow thought about it and then said "Someone made a mistake when they were changing rooms ?"

"I'd say so - come on."

Buffy led the way up the stairs. The top floor was similar, big rooms, long wide corridors. One room had an antique-looking telescope in it, and some charts. Buffy started to go through them, when she heard voices.

"Quick - we have to hide," she said.

But Willow had wondered off, and it was all that Buffy could do to hide in a closet, before the voices arrived, leaving Willow to their mercy, adrift in the middle of the room.

 

 

End of Bit 2

 

Bit 3 to come (with slight chance of smut)