The locker room at Sunnydale High was a cavern of echoes after hours, the air thick with the lingering scent of sweat and chlorine. It was Valentine’s Day, but for Xander Harris, the day had turned into a battlefield of heartbreak. He stumbled through the door, his sneakers squeaking against the tiled floor, his face a storm of confusion and hurt. The sting of Cordelia’s public breakup still burned, her words slicing through him in front of half the school after his impulsive, desperate kiss with Willow. He pressed a hand to his chest, as if he could physically hold the pieces of his shattered pride together.
The door slammed open behind him, a gust of fury in the form of Cordelia Chase. Her cheerleader posse trailed her like a pack of hyenas, their short skirts swishing with predatory menace, their glossy lips curled into smirks. Cordelia’s eyes blazed, a dangerous mix of rage and twisted amusement, as she zeroed in on Xander. Her heels clicked with purpose, each step a declaration of war.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the pathetic little worm himself,” Cordelia spat, her voice dripping with venom as she cornered him against the cold metal of the lockers. “Did you really think you could kiss Willow behind my back and just slink away like nothing happened? You’re dumber than I thought, Harris.”
Xander flinched, his back pressing harder into the locker as her words hit like punches. “Cordy, I—I didn’t mean for it to happen. It was a mistake—”
“A mistake?” she interrupted, her laugh sharp enough to cut glass. “The only mistake was me ever thinking you were worth my time. You’re nothing but a cheating, spineless loser.”
Her posse giggled, their voices a chorus of cruelty. A tall blonde with a vicious sneer leaned in, her eyes glinting with malice. “Bet you can’t even kiss right, let alone do anything else, loser. Probably fumble around like a clueless virgin.”
Another, a petite redhead with a mocking pout, chimed in, “Yeah, Xander, did Willow have to teach you how to use your lips? Or are you just naturally this pathetic?”
Xander’s face burned, his mouth opening to protest, but Cordelia didn’t give him a chance. She grabbed him by the collar of his faded flannel, yanking him down with surprising strength until he was on his knees before her. Her gaze was icy, commanding, a queen looking down on a disobedient subject. “You wanna make up for being a cheating bastard, Xander? Then you’re gonna service us. All of us. Right now. Prove you’re good for something.”
His eyes widened, a choked sound escaping his throat. “Cordy, come on, this isn’t—”
“Shut up,” she snapped, her grip tightening. “You don’t get to talk. You get to obey. Got it?”
Before he could even process her words, the smirking brunette of the group stepped forward, her cheer skirt hiked up with a flick of her wrist. She shoved Xander’s face between her thighs with a rough hand on the back of his head, her tone biting. “Get that tongue working, dipshit, or I’ll smother you right here. Don’t test me.”
Xander’s muffled protests were drowned out by the weight of her body, her thighs clamping around him with ruthless determination. He had no choice but to comply, his hands trembling as they gripped the floor for balance. Her sharp gasps and cruel laughter filled the room as she ground against him, taking what she wanted without a shred of mercy.
“God, he’s so bad at this,” the second cheerleader, the blonde, cackled as she took her turn. She pushed him back against the lockers, straddling his face with a sneer. “Deeper, you idiot, or are you too stupid to even eat pussy right? Come on, Harris, don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have.”
Cordelia watched it all unfold with a wicked grin, her arms crossed as she leaned against a nearby bench. “Look at him, girls,” she purred, her voice laced with sadistic glee. “Just a sad little tongue-slave for us to ride. Isn’t that right, Xander? This is all you’re good for.”
The others roared with laughter, their taunts growing filthier by the second. The redhead stepped up next, her eyes glinting with a particularly cruel twist. Without warning, she pinned him down with her full weight, a hot stream of piss flooding into his open mouth as she cackled, “Drink up, bitch boy! Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Xander gagged, his body jerking under her, but there was no escape. The others howled with delight, taking their turns with similar degrading acts, their voices a relentless barrage of mockery and filthy demands. “Swallow it, loser!” one barked. “Don’t you dare spit, you little freak!” another sneered.
Hidden in the shadows near the locker room entrance, Buffy Summers watched the scene unfold, her breath hitching in her throat. She’d followed Xander after the breakup, worried about him, but now… now she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her hand slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, fingers trembling as they found their mark. Guilt twisted in her chest, but it was drowned out by the raw, forbidden heat pooling between her thighs. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, her body trembling with a mix of shame and arousal as she silently reveled in Xander’s humiliation. She should step in. She should stop this. But she didn’t.
The cheerleaders finally finished, stepping back to admire their work. Xander lay sprawled on the floor, drenched and defeated, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Cordelia towered over him, her smirk triumphant. “Hope you enjoyed your Valentine’s gift, loser,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain. “Don’t ever forget your place again.”
With that, she turned on her heel, her posse following her out with a chorus of giggles and whispered insults. The locker room fell silent, save for Xander’s ragged breathing. But the quiet didn’t last long.
Buffy emerged from the shadows, her boots clicking softly against the tile. Her eyes were dark, smoldering with a dangerous mix of lust and authority as she approached the broken boy before her. “Well, Xander,” she said, her voice low and commanding, a predator closing in on wounded prey. “Looks like you’ve had quite the night. But I’m not done with you yet.”
Xander looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and exhaustion, but Buffy’s gaze held no mercy. She stepped closer, her presence overwhelming, and it was clear she intended to claim her own turn.
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