Chapter One "Have a Little..."
A/N: These characters belong to J. K. Rowling and Joss Whedon, I merely introduced them to each other. Forgive me if I have trouble initially with formatting, I am software-challenged. Edit: This is a ten chapter story, I got a bit turned about with the "series" bit. I'll try and do better in future.“Have a Little…”
“Hermione love, I think zat we should Apparate out of here,” said Fleur anxiously.
“We’ll be fine, one vampire is no match for us, and if this spell works, the vampire will no longer be able to feed on humans. They can be provided with animal blood from processing plants. Safer for everyone!”
“How very kind of you,” hissed a soft voice from behind Fleur as two hands seized her arms in a grip of steel, “but where’s the fun in that?”
Hermione had no more than thought of using her wand when there was a sudden blur of motion behind the vampire, and he dissolved in a puff of dust. She had the brief impression of a savage grin below two dark eyes set in a pale face before she and Fleur were catapulted into a pile of trash bags.
“I swear, you Frog vamps are just as stupid as the ones back home,” Fleur and Hermione heard above the sound of blows and a sharp cry of agony. They looked up from their nest of hefty bags to see the grin above a pair of hands reaching down and pulling them to their feet. “If you gals are gonna stake vamps, you’re gonna need something sharper and stronger than those two twigs you were waving around.”
The grin belonged to a woman, and both Fleur and Hermione gave her a slow and appraising look, because a glance would not do justice to her. She had shoulder-length dark hair, tumbled carelessly about, dark brown eyes that were heavily made up, and full, red, lips. She was wearing a white tank top that they might have taken for a coat of paint, if it were not for the fact that the black leather pants tucked into her heavy boots were even tighter. Had they seen this woman on the street, “slut” would have been the first thought to occur to them, but here in this alley with the memory of her strength and speed still fresh in their minds, they both felt their knees give a bit.
“So what are two hot chicks like you doing wandering around in a dark alley?” asked the woman.
“We were going to try out a new spell on a vampire,” said Hermione numbly. Fleur hissed something at her.
“Oh, witches,” replied the stranger, “still, it might be best to leave the vamps to the slayers, don’t you think?”
“What ees a slayer?” asked Fleur.
“Me,” answered the woman, “there are a fair few of us now, but there used to be only one. A witch I know changed the original magic so that any girl with the potential to be a slayer, would in fact become one. We kill vampires and assorted demons.”
“Without magic?” queried Hermione. The woman disappeared from sight, and spoke again from several yards away, over by a large trash bin. She lifted the bin easily into the air.
“Slayers have a little magic of their own,” she said, flashing that feral grin.
“Do slayers have names?” inquired Hermione.
“Ooohhh, a smart-ass! I like that in a chick. And I have a name, anyway; it’s Faith.”
“I am Hermione, and this is Fleur, pleased to meet you Faith.”
“Likewise; it ain’t every day I find two lookers like you wandering through the garbage.” Fleur and Hermione looked at each other, a look that Faith saw, apparently. “You guys are dykes, aren’t you? I swear, every witch I know is queer, what is it with you gals, anyway?” Fleur draped an arm around Hermione’s shoulders.
“And why should we waste all zis beauty on some man, when we can have eet all to ourselves?” purred Fleur. After the briefest of moments, Faith laughed.
“Makes sense to me, sweetmeat; me, I’m flexible. Sexy is sexy, and when I get charged up I don’t much care if it pees standing or sitting. Now let me walk you two to someplace safe, so I can finish my patrol and then take care of this little itch I seem to have.”
“I could give you a potion for the itch,” offered Hermione.
“Babycakes, it ain’t that kind of itch,” laughed Faith, “but I’m quite sure you and your little French bon-bon there could take care of it just fine. Let’s go now; I’ve got vamps to dust before sunrise.”
Much to their own surprise, Hermione and Fleur fell in step with the strange woman, although they each lagged behind on occasion. Faith stopped.
“Okay gals, I appreciate the discretion, but let’s just stop under this streetlight and check each other out right in the open like big girls, okay?” Hermione and Fleur flushed, but they also stopped under the light. Faith raised her arms above her head and turned slowly around. “You like?” she asked. The two nodded. “Thanks, now you,” Faith commanded. They complied, and while their sweaters were rather loose, their jeans fit snugly enough to draw a low whistle from the slayer. “Damn, and I thought California girls were hot, and Blondie here has a face that could melt, well, me.” Fleur and Hermione watched in amazement as Faith rubbed softly at the leather covering her crotch. “Well ladies, I’ll see you around the alley, try not to get killed, would you?” Thus saying, Faith leaped to the roof of a nearby building and vanished into the night.
“Bit coarse,” muttered Hermione.
“Oui, but she is as hot as zee Devils’ sauna.”
“Oh yes. I seem to have a little itch myself. Let’s get home so you can help me with it.”
They were close enough to their flat that they decided not to risk Apparating in public, but rather walked swiftly home. Neither of them noticed the shadow that followed them across the roofs.
“I need to wash off this ‘Eau de garbage’ love,” said Hermione as she began undressing, “join me?”
“I shall fix dinner, love, while you bathe, but I shall certainly join you later,” Fleur answered her. Hermione headed to the bath while Fleur opened the refrigerator.
“Phheww!” exclaimed Fleur. “One could wish z’at Faith ‘ad thrown us somewhere cleaner.” She removed her sweater and jeans and carried them to the laundry.
“Damn,” said Faith quietly, perched atop the building across the way, “little Blondie has got quite a rack.”
Hermione strolled into the kitchen nude, toweling her hair. “Your turn love, what’s left to do for dinner?”
“Just open zee wine and let it breathe, and set zee table, I am afraid it is only leftovers tonight,” Fleur answered.
“Works for me, there’s never anything bad to eat in this house,” Hermione avowed.
“Indeed not,” agreed Fleur with a twinkle in her eyes.
“Go and wash, lover, and I do hope that is not you I’m smelling.”
“Non, z’at ees our landing zone. Faith is quite strong, n’est ce pas?”
“She sure is. And fast. Hell of a body, too,” responded Hermione as she pictured the slayer.
“D’accord. I wonder if we shall ever see her again?”
“Who knows? Now hurry up, I’m hungry.” Fleur kissed the tip of Hermione’s nose and walked out of the room. Hermione watched her walk away. So did Faith.
“Holy Shit! I’m glad the vamps didn’t get those two, what a waste that would have been,” muttered Faith. “Not to mention that I could never shove a stake into chests like that.” Her eyes hungrily followed Hermione around the kitchen/dining area, and her stomach rumbled. “Damn, I should have tried to get dinner out of those two.” Hermione set the table, and as Faith watched she noticed a familiar tingle growing low in her belly. Something quite apart from her empty stomach. She shifted uneasily.
Fleur returned to the dining area wearing a robe, much to Faith’s disappointment, and Hermione donned one as well. With the visual stimulus muffled, Faith’s stomach reasserted itself. She blew a kiss to Hermione and Fleur, and left to find some dinner of her own.
Faith had no patron here in France, and usually preferred to work independently of the Slayer’s Council; and so the life of a solitary slayer was exacting its usual penalties of no income or real chance of employment. Not if she ever wanted to sleep. She headed for a nearby club, confident that someone there, man or woman, would feed her in hopes of bedding her. “Who knows,” she mused, “they might get lucky, the pump is already primed.” She entered the first place she saw that advertised food as well as booze, and insinuated herself into the crowd of dancers. Soon enough she found herself facing a man who was clearly interested in her. He wasn’t a bad dancer either. The music stopped as the band sought refreshment.
“Je m’apple Francois,” said the man by way of introduction.
“I’m Faith, and that’s all the francais that I parlay. Do you speak English?”
“A leetle, yes.”
“That’s great; we won’t have to waste time talking, then. Is the food any good here?”
“Pas mal, I mean, not bad. Would you allow me zee honor of buying you dinner?”
“You bet, Frenchy. I may learn to like this town yet,” Faith gave him a dazzling smile and hooked her arm through his. They sat down at a table in a dark corner removed from the crowd.
“What breengs you to France, Faith?” asked Francois as he summoned a waitress.
“I thought I’d see what the hunting was like over here,” she answered.
“I’m afraid there is not much game in zee city,” he replied hesitantly.
“I don’t know,” purred Faith, “I seem to be doing pretty well so far…” Francois smiled broadly.
“May I order for you?” he asked.
“Please do, another reason I came to France was for new experiences.”
Francois cleared his throat, said a rapid and silent prayer of thanks, and ordered a rather extravagant meal, given the limitations of the place. The food arrived promptly, and proved to be quite good, especially because Faith was smart enough not to ask what anything was. The snails were obvious, but they were good anyway. Faith relaxed, enjoying the feel of a full belly, and finally took the time to appraise her companion as he paid for the meal from a thick roll of bills.
“Not bad at all,” she thought, “he’s not even wearing a gold chain.”
“Would you like to dance?” he asked her.
“To tell you the truth, I’m kind of sleepy now that I’ve eaten. I think I’ll make an early night of it.”
“Very well, may I escort you home? Zee streets are not safe at night for a woman alone.” What the hell, thought Faith.
“Sure. Thank you.”
Many sets of eyes followed them as they left the club. So did 3 pairs of feet. They approached a section of the street where the streetlight was broken, and no sooner had they entered the shadows than three men holding knives confronted them. One of the men spoke rapidly in French.
“Be steel Faith, zey say zey won’t ‘urt us eef I geeve zem my money,” Francois told her in a choked voice. Faith looked at him, he was trembling slightly and sweat was already beading on his forehead.
“How do you say ‘fuck you’, in French?” she asked him. He looked at her like she had grown an extra head. “Never mind, this will do,”
said Faith, and she grinned at their assailants and displayed the middle finger of each hand. They did seem to get the gist of it, and one of them lunged at her.
It was pitiful, really. Faith grabbed him by the wrist of the arm holding the knife, whipped him into the air and proceeded to use him as a club to beat the others senseless. She turned to her companion with a smile.
“See, hunting’s pretty good, just bagged three assholes.”
Francois turned and fled.
“Pussy!” said Faith. Not only did that remind her of her own thoroughly aroused part of that name, but of two other prime examples that she had recently seen. “Maybe they’re still awake,” she mused. She leapt the pile of unconscious would-be thieves and ran lightly into the night.
“Yeeessssssssssss,” hissed Hermione as Fleur’s fingers lightly trailed down the plain of her belly. “Please baby, please, don’t tease me tonight. I want you too badly.”
“Are you sure eet ees me you want, and not zee dark-eyed slayer, ma petite?”
“Like you don’t want her, you vicious tease. Now tend to business or I’ll go out and find her!”
“Anyzeeng for you, ‘ermione,” purred the smiling Fleur, and she softly ran her tongue along Hermione’s outer lips. Hermione shuddered.
“Teasing, Frog, WENCH!” cried Hermione, and she grabbed Fleur’s head and pulled her firmly into her throbbing heat.
“Fuck. Me.” whispered Faith in honest awe as she watched from a neighboring rooftop. Her hands moved of their own accord, one of them sliding beneath the tank top and peeling the sports bra up over her breasts, the other attacking the laces that secured her pants.
“Yes, yes, yes, Yes YES!” screamed Hermione as she ground her sodden pussy against Fleurs’ face, going rigid as Fleur seized her ass and thrust her tongue into Hermione.
Across the narrow alley, Faith twisted and pulled a rock-hard nipple as the middle finger of the other hand slid into her slit, its passage eased by the hot, slick, fluid seeping from within her. She watched Fleur raise that perfect face from Hermione’s cunt, the perfect skin shining wet. She watched Fleur lick her lips, and then slowly push three fingers into Hermione as her own finger curled inside of herself. Fleur began to rhythmically pump her fingers into Hermione as she writhed on the bed, throwing her legs wide and clenching fistfuls of sheet. “Fuck-me… fuck-me… fuck-me…” chanted Faith as she unconsciously followed Fleurs’ rhythm. She squeezed her breast hard as she watched, and her legs shook, she heard some stitching in her pants give, and she bit her lower lip as she whimpered into the dark night.
“OH GOD FLEUR! YESSSS!!” Hermione howled as her legs drummed on the mattress and she felt hot fluid gush from deep inside her. Fleur raised her hand to her face and licked the glistening stuff that coated it, then extended the hand to Hermione, who eagerly drew Fleur’s fingers into her mouth.
Faith jammed two more fingers inside herself, and her lip slipped from between her teeth as her head flew back, the dark hair catching what little moonlight there was, as her palm fiercely pounded her clit.
“What was zat noise?” asked Fleur, her cheek resting on Hermione’s thigh as she gently rubbed her lovers’ twitching lips.
“Werewolf,” said a very languid Hermione.
Faith licked her own fingers clean as she watched Fleur crawl up alongside Hermione and nestle into her neck. “Come on Hermione,” whispered Faith, “don’t leave your girl hanging like that.” Fleur’s hands gently caressed Hermione, and soon she stirred and kissed Fleur deeply.
“You taste like me,” Hermione said.
“Indeed. I am utterly delicious,” stated Fleur.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Hermione briskly, and she briefly pulled Fleurs’ lower lip with her teeth before dragging her tongue down the center of Fleur’s body as she forced Fleurs’ legs apart and up. Hermione wasted no time, and plunged her tongue as far into Fleur as she could get it. Fleur pulled at her own nipples and arched her back in approval.
Faith watched, her chest heaving as she fought for breath. “These bitches are going to kill me,” she said in quiet amaze. Faintly, she heard Fleur cry out as her hands plunged into the mass of Hermione’s hair. “I am going to die on a rooftop in France with my hand down my pants. Buffy will get a big kick out of this shit.”
“’ermione my lamb, you have killed me. I am dead,” moaned Fleur.
“Not yet dead enough, lover, I am going to kill you at least twice more tonight.”
“Zank you, and remind me to zank zee slayer for stirring you up so, n’est ce pas?”
“Right this minute, I wish she were here so we could both thank her,” sighed Hermione.
“D’accord. Please open zee window before you kill me again, oh flood of my loins,” asked Fleur.
Faith took an unconscious step back as a nude Hermione stepped to the window and thrust it wide; Faith could plainly see the gleam of sweat on her breasts. “I can’t stand this, I just can’t stand this,” muttered Faith. “One short jump and I’ll land in the middle of more prime nookie than I’ve ever seen.” Hermione returned to Fleur, and kissed her way from Fleur’s toes to her groin. When she got there she twisted around, and lowered her twat to Fleur’s waiting mouth.
“That’s it,” spat Faith as she peeled off her tank top and bra in one motion. “That is fucking IT!” She kicked off her boots and peeled off the leather pants, panties and all. She then put the boots back on, ran for the edge of the roof, and launched herself into the air.
The ‘thud’ on the window ledge caused both Fleur and Hermione to extract their faces from each other’s quims and snap their gazes to the window. They both died a little.
There in the window, naked but for boots, her body shining with sweat that shone in the candlelight, was Faith. Her breasts were not large, but beautiful, the muscles of her body sang with strength and grace, and the look of desire on her face caused a sudden increase of heat in both Hermione and Fleur.
“The window was open and I thought I’d drop by,” said Faith. “That, and I’ve been horny as hell since I saw you two, and watching you make love hasn’t exactly calmed me down.”
“And why should we welcome this intrusion on our intimacy?” asked Hermione archly. Faith grinned, and held her arms wide.
“Have a little Faith!”