Goddess

Chapter One

Miss Summers was a goddess. A golden-haired goddess, all smooth skin and pert breasts and an arse so perfect it deserved sonnets written about it.

Other girls paled in comparison to Miss Summers—even Cordelia Chase who had been all over him at the Bronze the other day. Xander had almost had a conniption when William had turned her down. Her! The head cheerleader with a rack that could stop traffic. And he’d said no.

William didn’t care. He only had eyes for Miss Summers.

She didn’t look like a teacher, and she certainly didn’t dress like a teacher: skirts that bordered on outrageously short, affording him glimpses of tanned thigh at every opportunity; light, airy blouses that gaped open to reveal the soft curves of her breasts when she leaned down to check on a student’s work; high heels that made her slender legs look miles long.

William had hated art lessons at his old school. Mr Cooper had been a decrepit old fuddy-duddy with a penchant for hemming and hawing, and had instilled in his pupils a loathing towards the subject.

Now, William looked forward to art class most of all. Oh, he still couldn’t draw for toffee, but an hour of almost uninterrupted gazing at Miss Summers was the best way to start his day.

Of course, it often meant enduring a raging stiffy for the majority of the lesson, but that was a not-so-small price to pay for being able to ogle his hot teacher.

Xander thought he was crazy for focusing all his attention on the unattainable. “You need to get over her,” he’d said the other day, complete with wild hand gestures. “You could have any girl in school, if you wanted.”

“Don’t want just any girl,” William had replied, his eyes fixed on Miss Summers at the front of the classroom. “I want that girl.”

“That’s just it, man,” Xander had said. “She—” he’d pointed towards the desk “—is not a girl. She’s a woman. Forget about her. Hey! I heard Cecily Adams has the hots for you. I could get Anya to set you up…”

William had stopped listening at that point. Cecily Adams was a nice enough girl with wide brown eyes and a mass of curly hair, but she didn’t hold a candle to Miss Summers.

Forget about her, Xander had said.

William sighed.

Like that was even an option.

***

“Fuck.”

Her slippery hands skated over his wet skin, tracing the muscles in his chest before dipping around to cup his ass. She squeezed one cheek and then the other, almost to the point of pain, but stopped when it started to hurt.

She slid her hands up his back and over his shoulders and burrowed her fingers into his hair so she could pull his face down to meet hers. Her kiss wasn’t gentle, but harsh, her lips clashing against his with abandon, her teeth biting down on his full lower-lip.

William gasped and tilted his head back, letting the hot spray of the shower rain needles down onto his face.

“Fuck but you’re gorgeous,” he said, when she drew back a few moments later. Her blonde hair lay dark and heavy against her face, wet from the shower. Several tendrils curled down onto her breasts, and, when she moved, he saw her nipples poking through the strands, rosy pink and hard with arousal.

His words elicited a coy smile from her, which turned wicked as she dropped to her knees before him. His cock throbbed, and he groaned when she grasped it at the base, circled her hand around it, and stroked upwards.

“Fuck,” he said again, vocabulary stilted as he lost himself to the pleasure of her touch. Words failed him completely when she slid him into her mouth—her wet, hot mouth—and he moaned out loud. Her tongue danced around the head of his erection, and the sensation was almost too much for William to bear.

She was moving around him now, her head bobbing back and forth while she sucked and licked at his cock, her left hand still circling the base, and her right cupping and stroking his balls. William leaned forwards, bracing himself against the wall of the shower with one hand. He tangled the other into her hair, needing to touch even some small part of her.

His climax was building, and he closed his eyes. Biting his lip, he felt his balls tighten and the muscles in his stomach tense.

“William!”

“Not now, not now,” he murmured, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. He moved his hand furiously up and down his length, imagining once again that Miss Summers had him in her gorgeous mouth.

“Hurry up in there, would you?”

“Piss off!” he shouted, returning to his fantasy. He needed to finish, and quickly, or his sister would find some way to make his life hell.

He pictured the scene in his mind once more: a far more luxurious bathroom than the one he was currently standing in, Miss Summers knelt before him.

William tugged hard at his cock, and the mental image of his art teacher deep-throating him was all it took for him to come with a groan. His body jerked involuntarily, and he moaned again, squeezing himself to wring as much pleasure from his climax as possible.

“I know what you’re doing in there, you big perv!”

“Go away, Dawn!” he shouted back.

“I’m telling mom.”

“You do that,” he muttered and took down the showerhead to rinse away the evidence of his orgasm. The mood completely shattered, he stepped out of the shower with a sigh and wrapped a towel around his narrow hips.

Dawn narrowed her eyes at him when he exited the bathroom. “You’re disgusting,” she said, before dashing inside and slamming the door behind her.

William rolled his eyes and made his way to his bedroom.

***

The last thing William expected to see when he went into the kitchen was his art teacher sitting at the counter. He blinked, wondering for a moment if he was still somehow locked into his fantasy. That notion was squashed when he saw his stepmother, Jenny, standing by the sink, her hands merged in soapy water.

“Oh, William, there you are,” Jenny said, turning to look at him as she wiped her hands. She frowned, and added drily, “It might have been an idea to put on a shirt before coming downstairs.”

“Didn’t know we had company,” William said, congratulating himself on being able to form a coherent sentence. He chanced a glance at Miss Summers, who was watching the scene unfold with an amused smile on her face.

“Buffy’s from my tai chi class at the gym,” Jenny said. “I had no idea she was your teacher.”

“I saw the family portraits in the hallway and put two and two together,” Miss Summers put in. “Very sweet, William.”

Cheeks flaming—why his dad insisted on keeping those embarrassing pictures on display was beyond him—William made his way to the fridge.

He set about making a sandwich, two slices of ham between two slices of bread, and was about to settle himself at the kitchen counter, when Jenny spoke again.

“Shirt, William?”

Rolling his eyes and mumbling under his breath, he picked up his sandwich and made his way out of the room. Dawn was in the lounge, flicking through the channels on the TV, and he sat down next to her.

“Who’s in there with Mom?” she asked.

“New friend from the gym,” William replied, mentally cursing Dawn for talking when he was trying to eavesdrop on the conversation in the kitchen.

“—I know I’ve let things slip since Riley left. The backyard looks like a jungle—”

“So, you gonna give me some of that sandwich?”

“Shush.” William waved his hand in Dawn’s direction.

“—and then you feel like such a failure as a woman, having to admit that you need a man around. You know?”

“Oh my God, are you eavesdropping? You’re so lame.”

“Shut up.”

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Dork.”

“—oh no, I couldn’t. He’s a student… wouldn’t it be weird?”

William’s ears perked up. Were they talking about him?

“—well, if you’re sure he wouldn’t mind—”

Hearing half the conversation was frustrating, and William had just decided to grab the remote from Dawn’s hands and mute the television, when he heard Jenny call his name.

He went into the kitchen, blushing when he saw Miss Summers’ gaze rest on his bare chest before flicking away to the countertop. “Yeah?”

“Buffy needs some help with her back yard.” Jenny began. “You wouldn’t mind, would you? School’s out in a week and it’ll give you something to do over the summer.”

William swallowed and looked towards Miss Summers. Her eyes were wide and she was biting her lip. He took a deep breath and tried not to think about how he’d imagined that very same look right before he came. “Uh,” he said. “Sure, I don’t mind.”

“It was a silly idea,” Miss Summers said. “I’ll find someone else, Jenny, really—”

“No!” Whilst William didn’t relish the idea of manual labour taking over his summer vacation, the thought of spending time at Miss Summers’ house, perhaps even spending time with Miss Summers, was too good to pass up. “I’ll do it. When do you want me to start?”

***

Chapter Two

“And the lawnmower’s over here, it’s an electric one, so you won’t have to worry about fuel, but be careful that you don’t accidentally run over the extension cord. I heard about someone doing that once, and it wasn’t a pretty story. Oh—look, there are some cutter-y things on the bench there… I think you use those to trim the edges? The weed killer’s in the drawer, you just need to mix it with some water. Hm, where’s the watering can? I should get that—”

“Miss Summers.” William interrupted with some amusement. She’d been showing him around the shed for the last five minutes, but it was clear she didn’t really know where anything was. He thought it was adorable. “I’m sure I’ll find everything I need.”

“Oh. Right.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “Well, I’m off to the gym for an hour or so. Help yourself to anything from the kitchen. The bathroom’s at the top of the stairs on the right.”

“All right.” William nodded, a little disappointed that she wouldn’t be sticking around. “I’ll get to work.”

“Thanks, William. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, Miss Summers.”

“Buffy,” she said. “Call me Buffy, or I’ll start thinking we’re back at school.”

William grinned, wondering if a wink would be chancing it too far. “No problem, Buffy.”

***

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Buffy chanted to herself, tapping the steering wheel in time with her words. “Stupid, stupid Buffy.”

It was a mistake, having him work for her. She should have just said no when Jenny had suggested it, but her mind had been all floopy and her heart all a-flutter after seeing him walk in without a shirt.

She’d noticed him as soon as he’d walked into her classroom four months earlier. It would have been hard not to—what with his bright, peroxide hair and razor-sharp cheekbones—and she had at first mistaken him for a teaching assistant sent over by the university. He certainly looked older than his seventeen years, and when she’d found out that he was in fact a student, she’d been mortified.

She’d ogled him. Stared at him and wondered what he was hiding beneath the tight, black t-shirt—and he was a student.

It was bad. Dirty. But no matter how wrong she found it, no matter how many times she told herself to stop, she still looked. Still thought about him. And now he was going to be working for her over the summer.

Pulling the car to a stop, she groaned and hit her head on the steering wheel. “Stupid, stupid Buffy.”

***

When it started to rain, William looked up to the sky and cursed. He’d been working for all of ten minutes, and in that time had only managed to wrangle the lawnmower from out of the shed. Now he had to stop because of the stupid weather.

He didn’t want Miss Summ—no, Buffy—to be disappointed in him.

Sighing, he rolled the mower into the shed, and went to the back door of the house. He felt a little strange about going inside now that Buffy was no longer there, but his other option was to sit in the shed for the rest of the afternoon, and he didn’t much fancy doing that.

William kicked off his muddy boots and left them outside, sheltered from the rain by the awning over the back porch. Buffy’s house felt quiet, almost too quiet, and he padded through the kitchen on bare feet, peering this way and that and wondering what to do next.

He supposed that he could just go home and call to apologise later, but that would mean having to forego seeing Buffy again that day. Instead he went through to the living room, and then on up the stairs.

It was a small, compact house, but he felt it suited the woman who lived there. The decoration felt very feminine with girlish touches all over: flowers, light pastel colours, family photographs in bejewelled frames, and paintings adorning every wall .

The bathroom was clean and tidy, and after using the toilet, William had a quick look through the cabinets. All the usual suspects: face cream, deodorant, moisturiser, feminine stuff… and a box of condoms.

William eyed them before closing the cabinet, his suddenly sweaty fingertips leaving smudges on the mirror. Swinging around he saw a laundry rack on the radiator, tiny scraps of lace hanging from the pegs, and a silky-looking bra lying haphazardly across the top.

He swallowed and rushed out of the room, the sight of Buffy’s skimpy underwear having turned him on more than he’d thought it would. A door further down the hallway stood slightly ajar, and William caught a tantalising glimpse of a large double bed with a deep red comforter.

The scents of the house—Buffy’s perfume, mostly—seemed suddenly overwhelming, permeating every inch, until he felt smothered. Cursing, William hurried back downstairs to the safer, and less dangerous, parts of the house.

He took a deep breath when he reached the kitchen. “Get it together, you wanker,” he said to himself. He felt stupid, like a silly kid getting his first peek at the secret mysteries of a woman.

The rain still lashed heavily against the window, and William was just about to give up and go home when he noticed that one of the kitchen cupboards was missing its front, the hinges hanging uselessly and the door propped up on the floor.

Smiling to himself, William went to the back door, slipped on his boots and made a dash across to the shed for the toolbox. There was something he could do to keep himself occupied and be helpful to Buffy whilst he waited for her to return.

***

William heard her car pull up and then the sound of her key in the lock, but he didn’t move from his perched position on the countertop. He had a screwdriver in one hand and three screws held between his lips, having found that repairing the cupboard door by himself was a lot harder than it looked.

“Hello, William? Are you still here?” Her voice came from the living room, and then he heard her speak again, slightly more quietly. “Guess not.”

William angled himself on the counter so that he was able to prop the cupboard door up with his shoulder, then removed the screws from his mouth. He was about to call a hello back when Buffy walked into the kitchen, halfway through pulling off her white gym t-shirt.

He froze, unable to move, unable to speak. She had a bra on underneath, plain and not as pretty as the one he’d seen in the bathroom upstairs, but still—it was a bra. And he could see half of her boobs, and her smooth, tanned stomach and, oh God, he was getting hard. Right there on the counter, with the cupboard door hanging on by one hinge, his shoulder being the only thing preventing it from falling down completely.

William could do nothing but watch as Buffy, still unaware of his presence, pulled off her t-shirt and dropped it to the floor. He felt beads of perspiration appear on his forehead at just the thought of what she might do next. Maybe take off her joggers or, heaven forbid, her underwear.

But, no, he didn’t have to worry because at that very moment, she saw him, let out a shrill eep of surprise, and ducked down to pick up the discarded shirt before clutching it to her chest.

An awkward silence descended while William tried to calm his raging hormones. “I, um,” he began. “It started raining, and then I saw the broken cupboard, so…”

“Oh!” Buffy’s eyes flickered from William’s eyes to the cupboard door and back again. She glanced down at her shirt and, in a move that seemed impossibly fast, slipped it back on. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t usually walk around half-naked. Well, okay, sometimes I do, but… I was just all wet from the rain, and sweaty from the gym, and the washer’s in here…”

She trailed off, unaware that nearly everything she said had William conjuring fantasies in his mind’s eye. “’M sorry too,” he said gruffly, then gestured with his head to the cupboard door. “Shouldn’t have imposed.”

“I’ve been meaning to fix that for weeks,” Buffy replied, “so it’s no imposition.” She frowned, and moved to stand next to him. “It looks like you need a hand.” Reaching up behind him, she held the corners of the door steady. “Can you get the screws in now?”

“Yeah.” William did just that, twisting the screwdriver and securing the door in place. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Buffy said. “I should be thanking you, though, doing this work for me.”

“It’s no trouble.” He jumped down off the counter. “‘Sides, I got hardly anything done today.”

“That’s not your fault.” She smiled. “Personally, I blame the rain.”

William grinned, enjoying the easy camaraderie between them now that the awkwardness had passed. In art class he’d admired her from afar and lusted after her body. Now he was coming to see that she was a pretty great person, too.

“Do you need a ride home?” she asked a couple of moments later. “It doesn’t look like the rain is going anywhere.”

“That’d be good, thanks.” William was loath to leave but he knew he couldn’t stay all day. “Should I come back tomorrow, weather permitting?”

“Yep,” Buffy said. “I don’t have any plans so we can work on the yard together.”

William resisted the urge to jump in the air and instead smiled winningly at her, ducking his head slightly. “Great.”

He went to collect his boots, wondering all the while if he’d imagined the slight blush on Buffy’s cheeks.

Chapter Three

“You’re the luckiest bastard in the world, you know that?” Xander said, his fingers moving furiously over the X-box controller. “Ah, shit. I knew I shouldn’t have given you the rocket launcher.”

William cursed and hit pause, but couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “And I get to go back this afternoon,” he said.

“She’ll probably be dressed in tiny shorts and a crop top,” Xander mused, leaning back against the foot of William’s bed, a dreamy look in his eyes. “Maybe she’ll be wearing high heels. She’ll bring you a glass of lemonade and say, ‘Oh, William! You’re so good at yard work!’”

“Mate, stop fantasising about me and Miss Summers,” William said. “It’s creepy.”

“Sorry, but Will, you’ve got an in with her! This is—this is serious.”

“I’m just helping her out,” William said defensively, suddenly grumpy.

“But—”

William pressed the pause button and the game started up again, gunfire and the sounds of war emanating from the television. “Your kill count’s a load of bollocks,” he said. “Let’s just worry about that for now, okay?”

***

William arrived at Buffy’s house feeling unaccountably nervous, more so than the day before. He’d replayed the events over and over in his mind, from the moment she’d walked half-dressed into the kitchen to the blush he was sure he’d seen on her face.

He knocked on the door, ran his hand through his hair, and waited for Buffy to answer.

She answered a few moments later, a bright smile on her face as she welcomed him into the house.
“Hi, William,” she said, and looked up to the sky. “You brought the sun with you.”

“Looks like,” William replied. He stepped into the house and shrugged out of his jacket, which he set down on the hall chair. “I’ll start with the lawn, seeing how I didn’t manage to get to it yesterday.”

“I’ve made a start on the weeding,” Buffy said, holding up slightly-muddy hands. With a frown, she added, “I’m not entirely sure that what I’ve been pulling out are weeds, though.”

William chuckled. “Dunno how much help I’ll be there. Not particularly green-fingered myself.”

“Come through.” She led the way down the hall and through the kitchen to the back door.

William looked at the cupboard he’d fixed the day before and was happy to see that it was still in place. He gulped when he noticed the jug of lemonade on the side, mentally cursing Xander’s overactive imagination, especially when he took in what Buffy was wearing. Denim cut-off shorts and a strappy vest-top. Not quite what his friend had predicted, but close enough. Damn him.

“I’ll let you get on with it then,” Buffy said. “Back to my weeding.” She punched the air, and continued sarcastically, “Yay!”

The yard was quite large, and there was a lot of lawn to mow. William pushed the machine up and down the grass, every so often casting glances over to Buffy, who was kneeling in the flowerbed, plucking weeds from the ground. Strands of her hair had fallen loose from her ponytail, and she had little smudges of dirt on her cheeks. William itched to go over and push her hair back, wipe the smudges from her face.

After an hour or so, Buffy stretched and stood up. She waved at William, and he switched the lawnmower off. “D’you want a drink?” she asked. “I’m going in to get myself one.”

“Yeah, thanks,” William said. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and followed Buffy into the house.

“Lemonade okay?”

“Sure.” He watched her pour the drinks, thinking all the while that, in her shorts and tee, with her hair pulled back and minimal make-up on her face, she didn’t look at all like the teacher he knew she was. She looked young, and he found himself wondering just how old she was.

He had to have voiced the question out loud without realising; a surprised look crossed her face before she answered, “Twenty-seven. Why?”

“Uh, no reason,” William replied. “Just wondering.” He paused, debating whether to continue. “You look younger.”

“Thanks,” she said, smiling. She sat down at the kitchen table and gestured to the seat opposite her. “That’s what every woman wants to hear.”

William sat down, his hands making marks in the condensation forming on the outside of his lemonade glass. He stared at the cloudy drink, ice cubes bobbing on the surface, and thought about what she’d said. She was twenty-seven—ten years older than him. It wasn’t too big a difference, and it was something he was used to; his father was fourteen years older than Jenny.

He found himself wondering if the tentative beginnings of the friendship that had formed between them could be continued, if they could overcome the age difference and the fact that, up until now, she had been nothing more than his art teacher.

Taking a long drink of his lemonade, he looked across to Buffy, who was studying her drink with a similar level of intensity.

The silence should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t, and when they’d finished their drinks they went back outside with a grin and a smile to continue their work.

***

Those first few weeks of the summer passed in a blur, and whenever William looked back on them he remembered long, sultry days filled with hard-work, flirty banter, and Buffy.

She’d consumed every part of him, and when he wasn’t at her house working on her yard, her image filled his mind, and she crept up on his every thought and fantasy.

They had maintained their easy camaraderie, and it had slowly progressed from the initial hesitant attempts at conversation to a light-hearted flirtation, with lowered eyes and cocky smirks.

William had almost forgotten that she was a teacher and he her student, until Buffy brought it up one day when they were sitting out on the back patio.

“Is this weird?” she said, lifting her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head so she could meet his eyes. “This… friendship, I mean.”

William shrugged and set down the sandwich he’d been eating. “Only if we make it weird,” he said. “It’s been good so far, right?”

Buffy nodded, a frown creasing her forehead. “Very good,” she replied, “but almost all the work is done now, Will. I—I enjoy your company, and… and—”

William knew what she wanted to say even if she couldn’t form the words properly. “—and you don’t want it to end,” he said, moving to sit at the edge of his chair. He badly wanted to take her hand, to stroke the soft skin of her palm and clasp her fingers within his own. He didn’t. “Without any work to do, there’s no reason for me to come round anymore. You’re my teacher, and there’s no way we can be… friends.”

“Right.” She nodded again.

“Sure there’s nothing else needs doing?” William said, grinning a little. “Could maybe paint an imaginary fence or mend an imaginary kitchen sink.”

Buffy smiled. “I think I’ve got an imaginary pool that needs cleaning,” she said, mouth twisting as she looked out over her back yard, no swimming pool in sight. “Well, we’re not done with the garage yet.”

“Maybe I’ll finally find that laziness we teenagers are known for,” William said. “Make it last as long as possible.” They both knew that his words held a double meaning.

“Yeah.” She smiled sadly and shrugged her shoulders, her gaze never leaving his.

In any other situation, William would have leaned across and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. Her eyes were telling him that she wanted just that, that she would welcome his lips, his touch, the solidness of him pressed against her.

Instead, he swallowed hard, willed away the images invading his mind, and let the moment pass.

Chapter Four

Two days later found them with very little work left to do; there was just one small corner of the garage left for them to sort through.

“Oh!” Buffy breathed as she opened the lid of one of the cardboard boxes. “Mom’s old photo albums.” She sat down cross-legged on the dusty floor of the garage and pulled the first book from the box.

William watched for a moment before kneeling down next to her. “Is that you?” he asked, pointing at a picture of a little blonde girl sitting on a tricycle.

“Yeah,” she replied, her fingers tracing the yellow-orange edges of the photograph. She turned the page and smiled at what she saw there: a woman with wavy dark-blonde hair, toddler-Buffy sitting on her lap.

“Your mum?”

“Yeah,” she said again, and then in a whisper, “Sometimes I miss her so much it hurts.”

“What happened?” William’s hand twitched at his side, and he squeezed his eyes shut, before deciding that consequences be damned. He took Buffy’s hand in his own and held it tight, just like he’d imagined doing so many times before. She didn’t flinch or pull away, and he knew that it had been the right thing to do.

“She had cancer,” Buffy said, a few moments later. “A brain tumour. She was in hospital a lot, and they operated, and we thought they’d caught it, that it was gone. A few weeks later, I got home and found her dead on the couch.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I wish she was here for me to talk to,” Buffy said, her gaze flickering to their joined hands. “Some things a girl just needs her mom for.”

William wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he stayed quiet, and the atmosphere in the room thickened with anticipation. He let out a shuddery breath and was about to open his mouth to speak, to say anything that would break the tension, when Buffy moved quite suddenly, launching herself forwards until her hands came to rest on his shoulders.

Her eyes were steely with determination, and then her lips were on his, pressing fiercely against him in the kind of kiss he’d only ever dreamed about.

William stiffened in shock, his arms falling slack at his sides until his brain caught up with what his body was doing, and he settled them loosely on her waist. He moaned, the sound trapped somewhere deep within his chest, and opened his mouth, getting his first taste of heaven when Buffy’s tongue touched his own.

He let her draw him down onto the floor, his weight covering her body completely. He could feel her breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples hard points that he longed to touch. He was hard, his cock throbbing a staccato beat in time with his heart, and it was all he could do to keep from thrusting against her.

The kisses eventually slowed from fast and fierce to long and languid, and every stroke of Buffy’s tongue against his sent William spiralling higher and higher, the taste and feel and weight of her in his arms stoking the fire.

He felt that they could have kissed all day, mindless of time and place, but reality intruded with the squeaking of the garage door and a harsh, mocking laugh.

“So this is what you do with your free time. Is he the reason you’ve been too busy to meet with me?”

Buffy swore and pushed at William’s chest. He rolled off her, panting as he lay on his back and drew his knees up a little. When he’d calmed down, he sat up to see Buffy had gone to stand in front of the man, her hands on her hips.

“Ever heard of knocking, Riley? Or, you know, maybe ringing the doorbell?”

“Sorry,” Riley said, not sounding sorry at all. “The garage door was half open. Saved myself, oh, six or seven steps.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Buffy crossed her arms in front of her.

William watched with curiosity. The man was tall, big and beefy, and a lock of hair fell persistently into his eyes.

“Lindsey’s getting things moving,” Riley said. “If you’d been to any of the meetings you’d have known that.”

“Can we talk about this inside?” Buffy asked, with a nervous glance back at William.

“You don’t want your little boy-toy to hear?” Riley replied. “Didn’t you tell him you were married? No, I think we’ll talk right here.”

“I haven’t been married to you in a long time,” Buffy spat. “No matter that we don’t have the papers signed yet.”

“We would have, if you weren’t being so stubborn.” Riley reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I can get Lindsey on the line, and it can all be sorted by tonight.”

“No chance. You’re not getting this house, Riley.”

“We’ll see about that.” He smiled nastily and sent a smirk towards William. “I’ll leave you to it. Think about what I’ve said, Buffy.”

She remained stubbornly silent, and watched until Riley had jauntily walked off, long arms swinging at his sides. When the man was out of sight, all the fight seemed to go out of her, and she sank in on herself. “Sorry you had to see that.”

William stood, finally, and moved closer to her. “Not gonna ask,” he said. “It’s not really any of my business.”

“You don’t think what happened between us makes it your business?” she asked.

“Uh…” William wasn’t sure what to say; in all honesty, he’d expected her to avoid all mention of the kiss, to brush it under the carpet.

“We split up about six months ago,” she said. “He’s been trying to get his hands on this house ever since.” Turning a blazing gaze to William, she continued, “He’s not getting it! I’ll do anything to stop him from getting it.”

“I believe you,” he said. “Do you have a lawyer?”

“I had a lawyer. Lindsey. Bastard defected to the other side.”

“My dad’s mate’s a lawyer.” William said. “Bet he’d help you out. I could ask him for you.”

“No you couldn’t,” Buffy replied, and sighed.

“Wes is a good guy, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind—”

“That’s not what I meant, Will. You can’t just go up and ask your dad’s friend to help me out. You’re just here to do odd jobs and help with my yard. Why would I be talking to you about my marital problems?”

William felt oddly stung by what she said, but tried not to let it show on his face. “All right, it was just an idea. You go talk to Jenny, then, and she’ll suggest exactly the same thing.”

“Shit, Jenny,” Buffy said. She rubbed at her face with her hand, then met William’s eyes with a sigh. “What are we doing?” She looked down at the spot on the floor where they’d kissed, their bodies having made marks in the dust. “You should probably go.”

“But—”

“Please?”

William sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was leave now, right when they were on the cusp of something, but he couldn’t deny her a thing—not when she looked at him with such wide eyes. “All right. I’m coming back tomorrow, mind.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

He gathered his things together and stole one last look at her before leaving the garage.

Chapter Five

Wanting to clear his head first, William didn’t go straight home. He went to a nearby park and, once there, sat with his back against the trunk of a tree. His mind was spinning with the events of the day, from his kiss with Buffy to her confrontation with her ex-husband.

That kiss. He hadn’t ever felt anything like it, had never been so turned on before. He’d kissed other girls—fumbling snogs behind the bike shed back at his school in England, quick gropes in darkened corners of pubs he wasn’t supposed to have been in. He’d slept with them even.

None of them compared to how it had felt to have Buffy kissing him. The others had been girls; Buffy was a woman.

He sighed. That was the rub, wasn’t it? What had happened—was happening—between them shouldn’t have existed. She was the older woman, the forbidden fruit.

But—no. She had initiated the kiss. She had changed things. He stood up, suddenly determined. He didn’t want to wait until tomorrow to find out if things really had changed; he had a feeling that the longer he left it, the more likely it was that Buffy would deny what had happened.

He knew that this thing, this relationship between them was wrong, but damned if he was going to let it go before it even got started.

Finding a payphone, William fumbled in his pocket for change and fed it a couple of quarters. He listened impatiently to the tone, drumming his fingers against the handset. “Dawn? Is your mum there?”

His step-sister’s grumbling filled his ear, but she called for Jenny nevertheless.

“Hello? William?”

“Hey,” he said. “I’m stopping at Xander’s tonight. We’re at a crucial part of the game, and—”

“No explanations needed,” Jenny said. “I know how you boys are with your video games.”

“Great,” William replied. “See you tomorrow.”

He hung up and dialled in another number. “Hey Xan, I need your lying skills.”

“What’s up?”

William could hear his friend munching on something—probably pizza—on the other end of the line, and rolled his eyes. “If Jenny or my dad calls, I’m staying with you tonight, okay?”

“Sure, man.” Chew, chew, swallow. “What are you really up to? Hot date? Sexy rendezvous with the smokin’ Miss Summers?”

William frowned. After the initial discussion of the benefits of working at Miss Summers’ house over the summer, he hadn’t really talked about their developing relationship with Xander, and his friend’s remark cut a little too close to the truth.

“Replace ‘Miss Summers’ with ‘girl I met at the Bronze,’ and you’ve got the gist of it.”

“Gotcha. No problem, William. Xan-man’s on the case.”

“Thanks, mate,” William said and hung up the phone.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back in the direction of the town centre, wanting to pick up a couple of things before he re-appeared at Buffy’s house.

***

Nerves overtook him on the walk back to Buffy’s, and William paused at the end of the driveway, ready to turn around and go to Xander’s instead.

Half-turned in indecision, he didn’t see the front door open, didn’t realise that he had company, until she spoke.

“Will? What are you... Is there something wrong?”

He wasn’t sure what to say. The whole idea seemed silly now. Shoulders slumping, he walked up the driveway and came to a stop at the bottom of the steps. He held out the paper bag in his hand and tried to smile. “I brought you some food,” he said. “Chinese. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got a bit of everything: chicken, duck, pork, some prawn crackers and rice…” He trailed off. “It was stupid, I’ll go.”

“Wait,” Buffy said, quickly. He felt her touch on his shoulder, light but solid, drawing him to her. “Come on. It’ll get cold if we stay out here much longer.”

William followed her into the kitchen, where she pulled out plates and piled them high with the food. She sent him a slight smile, and when they were seated at the table, he spent a few moments taking stock.

Buffy’s hair was damp, pulled back into a ponytail, and the ends were curling slightly, indicating a recent shower. She wore nothing but pyjama shorts and a tank top. Her eyes were slightly swollen, the redness at their edges revealing that she had probably spent some of the afternoon crying.

Now, she piled her fork high with chicken and rice, and seemed happy to ignore the mounting tension in the room.

“Buffy?” he said, when he couldn’t stand it any more.

“Hmm?”

“Are we going to talk about what happened today?”

She set her fork down and took a couple of deep breaths before replying. “What do you mean, exactly? The part where my ex showed up demanding I give up my house, or the part where I practically molested my seventeen-year-old student?”

“If that’s how you feel about it,” William said, voice rising in anger, “why’d you ask me in just now?”

“You brought me food,” she said. “That was sweet.”

William snorted. “Thanks, I guess.”

“What d’you want me to say?” Buffy asked. She stood up, eyes flashing. “That I can’t resist you?”

“It’d be a start.” William’s jaw clenched, a sudden irrepressible urge to laugh coming over him. He stood too, the scrape of his chair along the kitchen floor a harsh squeal that set his teeth on edge. “I’m gonna go. I can see that this was a mistake.”

He turned to leave, anger boiling in his veins. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, the argument, but it had left him feeling heated and charged with energy.

He had barely taken two steps towards the hallway, when Buffy stepped into his path. She looked to be arguing with herself, colour high on her cheeks as she met his eyes.

He stared her down, reading her expression easily. Anger and annoyance were prominent, but underneath he could see fear and worry and confusion. Deeper still, he saw the things she was trying to hide: desire and want, arousal and need.

He could no more resist her than he could stop breathing, and so he stepped into her kiss with a moan. Her face felt hot and fevered beneath his hands, her lips soft yet demanding underneath his own.

“Buffy,” he whispered against her mouth. “Buffy, I want you.”

She broke away with a gasp. “This is wrong,” she said. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He kissed her again, swallowing her protests with hot, open-mouthed caresses. He felt it, the moment that she gave in, that she gave herself over to the craving and forgot about the consequences; her body slackened within his grasp, and then tightened again, like a coiled spring.

She pushed against his chest, walking him backwards until he hit the wall with a thump, their mouths still joined in a frantic kiss.

His heart pounded at the impact as he suddenly realised that this was real, that this was happening. He was more than likely going to have sex with Buffy Summers, the woman he had fancied for months, someone who should be forbidden to him but was instead here, in his arms, kissing him as if her life depended on it.

The thought spurred him on and made him bold. He ran his hands along her side, over the curves of her body, and up to cup her breasts.

Buffy’s hands were busy too, tracing the muscles of his back over his t-shirt and occasionally dipping beneath it to touch his skin.

William pushed his hips against hers, letting her feel the hard evidence of his arousal. She made a soft, mewling sound, and hitched her legs up around his waist, her centre cradling his cock, and even through the layers of fabric that separated them he could feel her pulsing, hot and wet with want.

In a sudden and swift movement, William had turned them around so that Buffy was the one now pressed to the wall. She kept her legs clamped around his waist, rocking against him so subtly that he thought it the sweetest form of torture.

He broke away from her kiss, so his lips could find the skin of her neck, and he trailed his tongue over her, tasting the saltiness of her sweat and her unique taste. He bit down lightly before continuing his path down her body, until he came to the material of her tank-top, which he pulled down, revealing her breasts to his gaze.

He stared at her, almost unable to believe that she was revealed to him this way, her breasts two perfect handfuls, her nipples hard and begging for his kiss.

William did just that, and she moaned. “You’ve done this before,” she said, breathless and sounding more than a little surprised.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling away from her, knowing that she meant the whole act of sex, and not just what he had been doing at that moment. “You didn’t think I had?”

Blushing, Buffy looked away before meeting his eyes. “You’re young.”

William shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “Old enough,” he said, and punctuated his words with a swivel of his hips that left Buffy gasping.

“Upstairs,” she managed to say and wiggled against him as she tried to release his hold on her.

William swallowed and took a step back. He took Buffy’s hand and smiled, when she pulled her tank back up, covering her breasts.

To his questioning glance, she shrugged and bit her lip. “I’d feel stupid walking around with my boobs hanging out.”

“I don’t mind,” William replied. The fury of the kiss had calmed, but the heat between them remained, and he tugged impatiently on her hand, leading her towards the stairs.

“I bet you don’t,” Buffy said, and a wicked grin crossed her face. “I’ll take my shirt off again… if you can catch me.”

She slipped out of his grasp and ran for the stairs, taking them two-by-two until she got to the top.

William smirked and followed her up the stairs, pulling his shirt off as he went and dropping it into a crumpled pile on the steps. He followed Buffy’s laughter down the hallway, and watched her dart into the bathroom, only to emerge a moment later with something clutched in her hand.

He caught up to her just outside her bedroom and pressed her against the door, stealing another kiss from her lips.

“Got you,” he said, his hands already exploring the skin of her back and lifting her shirt up.

Buffy grinned. “Not quite,” she said, and a moment later the door fell open. She ducked out from under William’s arms and dashed across to the bed. Big and soft and made up with red linen, it looked as luxuriant as William remembered from the quick glimpse he’d had weeks ago, which had worked as fuel for his fantasies.

In none of his dreams had Buffy looked quite like this: a little dishevelled, her hair falling loose from its rubber band, wearing only an old tank top and pyjama shorts, biting her kiss-swollen lips as she sat back on her bed. This was a thousand times better than any fantasy, though, because it was real and it was here and it was now.

He walked across to the bed slowly, every step measured and precise until he stood before her. With a shaking hand, he tucked a strand of Buffy’s hair behind her ear, smoothing it down before trailing his fingers across her cheek.

She stared up at him, wide-eyed. “William?”

“Just can’t believe I’m really here,” he said. He shook his head a little and knelt on the bed next to her. He kissed her before she had time to think about what he’d said, before the doubts and confusion he’d seen in her eyes before crept back unannounced.

They moved up the bed, kissing all the while, the air becoming hot and fevered once more. He slid his hands underneath the material of her tank-top and quickly pulled it over her head, his mouth going dry when she lay topless beneath him.

He traced the shape of her with his palms, over the curves of her breasts, into the narrower point of her waist and then out again at the slight flare of her hips. His fingers brushed the well-worn cotton of her shorts, smoothing the material down before touching lightly between her legs, to the place that made her jerk and gasp.

Seconds later, William pulled the shorts down her legs and discarded them off the edge of the bed. Now naked, Buffy lay before him, unabashed and aroused. She was nervous, he could see that in the dart of her eyes, but then so was he.

Swallowing, William reached for the top of his jeans. Buffy’s eyes followed his every movement, and he felt a hot blush fill his cheeks when he’d finished undressing. This was not the first time he’d done this—or even the second—but it sure felt like it was.

“Relax,” Buffy said, sitting up. She drew him down on top of her, and William groaned at the feel of their skin pressed together. “We’re doing this.” She seemed to be reassuring herself, too, and she kissed him again, her hands tunnelling into his hair and curling it around her fingers.

Pressing himself closer, if that were even possible, William closed his eyes in surrender to the feel of her folds against his hard erection. He rocked his hips experimentally and was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure.

Buffy broke the kiss to reach across to the bedside table, where she fumbled for the box of condoms retrieved from the bathroom. She handed him one, and he tore off the wrapper with shaking hands before sitting back onto his heels and rolling it down his length.

Reaching for him once more, Buffy settled him between her legs, grasping him lightly to guide him inside. The feel of her hand on his cock made him brave, and he surged forwards, pushing into her as deep as he could go.

Her moans echoed his, and William couldn’t believe the sensation of being sheathed inside of her. Pleasure radiated throughout his body, and when he pulled back and thrust again, Buffy locked her legs around his waist as though to keep him there, as close to her as possible.

She put her arms above her head, her fingers twisting into the material of the pillow as she met his every thrust, little moans and gasps of enjoyment falling from her lips every few moments.

Pressing his forehead against hers, William felt himself nearing the edge and willed himself to hold on, to make this last as long as possible. He slowed his movements, drawing out of her before leisurely pushing back in.

“Don’t stop,” Buffy said. She reached between their bodies to where they were joined, rubbing her clit and making herself gasp, bucking against him and squeezing her eyes shut in bliss. Her heels pressed into his ass, and then he felt her clenching and pulsing around him, her climax tearing a scream from her throat.

The feel of Buffy’s orgasm sent shockwaves down William’s spine, and he sped up his thrusts once more, caring about little more than his own completion. His back arched, and the fire in his belly spiralled through him as he came with a shout, sweat pooling on his back, and his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

They lay together for several long moments, before William pushed himself up. He pulled the condom off and hesitated for a moment until he felt her hand on his arm.

“In the corner,” she said, nodding towards the trash can.

He hurried to throw it away, and when he got back to the bed he found Buffy burrowed under the covers, lying on her side and smiling up at him. William slid onto the mattress and pulled the sheets up around his shoulders, turning to face her and grinning back. He didn’t know what to say, and so they smiled stupidly at each other in silence.

Eventually, a giggle from Buffy broke the quiet, and he couldn’t stop a laugh from bubbling forth either.

“Sorry,” she said, when the laughs had subsided. “I’m still riding the high.”

“Don’t apologise,” he said, then paused. “That was amazing.”

“It was pretty good, huh?”

“Just good?” William asked, eyebrow raised. He kept his tone light, but inwardly worried that she hadn’t enjoyed it, that he hadn’t been good enough for her.

Perhaps she sensed the change in mood, because she sobered, and reached for his hand beneath the covers. “It was, Will.” She frowned, and it looked like she wanted to say more, but she shook her head and put her mouth close to his ear, her hand beneath the covers moving towards his cock. “Ready to go again?”

Chapter Six

William awoke to the unfamiliar sensation of a warm body pressed to his side. In a sudden rush of memory, the night’s events filled his mind, and he turned to see that Buffy lay next to him, fast asleep and with her mouth slightly open.

He shifted on the mattress, the movement causing it to dip slightly in the middle. He watched as Buffy murmured something in her sleep before blinking her eyes open. She frowned, and he smiled down at her, still giddy from everything that had happened the previous day and during the night.

“Hi,” he said and bent down to steal a kiss from her lips.

Eyes wide, Buffy drew her head back and then sat up, clutching the covers to her chest. “Oh my God,” she said, scrambling backwards as though burned. “Oh no. Oh, God.”

“Buffy?” William asked, a sinking feeling filling his chest and weighing him down. He lifted his hand to touch her face but dropped it when she flinched, her gaze fixed on the sheets.

He watched her take a couple of deep breaths before she looked at him. “You should go.”

“Buffy—”

“Go! Get out!” Keeping the sheet wrapped around herself, she got out of bed and bent to pick up a robe from the nearby chair. She slipped into it and tied the sash around her waist, then turned to face him. “This was a mistake. Go home, please.”

William stared at her for several moments, his mind going blank, as he tried to think of what to say to change her mind. Nothing came to him, humiliation at her reaction spreading through him, his cheeks staining with red. He sighed, gathered his clothes from the floor and slipped into them as quickly as possible.

“For what it’s worth,” he began, once he’d buckled his jeans and pulled his boots on, his eyes averted. Buffy was standing by the window, her head turned away, but he knew she was listening. “For what it’s worth, last night was amazing. I don’t regret a thing.”

“I do,” she replied, her voice quiet but the words harsh enough to cut glass. “Please go.”

Blinking past the sudden stinging of his eyes, William turned to leave. He hurried along the corridor and only stopped to pick up his t-shirt from where it had fallen on the stairs.

***

“William!”

He ignored the voice, turning over on his bed to face the wall.

“William? Come downstairs, please!”

With a roll of his eyes, he sat up and pulled on a shirt. He knew that if he didn’t, Jenny would come looking for him and, well—no one should have to enter a teenaged boy’s room unless they absolutely had to.

He left the room, blinking in the bright light of the hallway. It had been three days since he’d had sex with Buffy. Three days since she’d rejected him and he’d come home humiliated and angry. He’d spent most of that time sulking in his room, occasionally wanking when the memories of the night they’d spent together filtered into his consciousness. Mostly, though, he’d sulked.

William wasn’t a cowardly person, but he couldn’t muster up the courage to go back over to Buffy’s house and demand an explanation.

He’d turned the events over and over in his mind—both the sexy parts leading to the aforementioned wanking—but he thought about the other moments, too. The flash of her eyes when they’d fought in her kitchen; the quirk to her lips when she’d seen the Chinese food; her elation after she’d come; the quiet cuddle time afterwards.

“William, are you listening?”

He shook his head and blinked a couple of times. “Uh, sorry. What did you say?”

His stepmother sighed and folded her arms across her chest. “Honestly, you’re getting spacier by the day. I need you to run an errand for me.”

“Oh.” William frowned. He hadn’t left the house since he’d come back from Buffy’s, and the thought of going outside sounded suddenly appealing. “Sure. What do you need me to do?”

“I’m helping organise a fundraiser with my tai-chi group from the gym,” Jenny said. “I’ve got some promotional stuff I need to drop round at a couple of the other girls’ houses.” She beckoned him through to the kitchen, where two shoebox-sized boxes sat on the counter. “This one needs to go to Alison—she lives at the top end of Blossomfield Avenue—and this one is for Buffy and, well, you know where she lives; you’ve been helping her all summer.”

William’s heart simultaneously lurched and began to beat faster at the mention of her name, and he swallowed. Jenny wanted him to take something over to Buffy’s house, and how could he say no? If he did, Jenny would want to know why, and he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth.

With a sigh, he picked up the boxes and asked her to write down the other address.

***

William didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed when he arrived at Buffy’s house and she didn’t answer the bell. Figuring she’d know what the box was, he set it down on her doorstep before trudging down the front path, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

He had just made it to the sidewalk, when a flash of movement in an upstairs window caught his eye. He turned and saw a whirl of blonde hair dart away from the glass. The sight of her filled him with happiness and anger, a confusing combination, and he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration.

It was time to be pro-active. No more sulking in his bedroom, no more hiding away.

He was going to win her over, and he was going to start right now. Glancing up at her bedroom window, he realised he could no longer see her standing there. Whether that meant she’d be down in a moment to confront him, he didn’t know.

William hurried to the side of the house and lifted the latch on the gate that led to the back yard, thankful that it was unlocked. He hadn’t had cause to use this path before, always being welcome to go through the house itself.

Once in the back yard, he unwound the garden hose from its wheel, connected it to the tap and went back down the weedy path to the front yard.

This is a stupid idea, he thought, once there. She’ll think I’m an idiot. Who shows up unannounced and randomly starts washing someone’s car? And what kind of weirdo thinks a car wash is romantic?

Mentally shrugging, he squeezed the handle of the hosepipe and set the spray going onto the car. It was then that he realised he had nothing to clean the car with—a huge flaw in this hastily constructed plan.

He sent another glance up to the window and saw Buffy’s shadowy figure peering out. He couldn’t see the expression on her face or tell anything from her posture, but he felt defiant nonetheless and pulled his shirt off.

Moments later, it was sodden, and he was using it to wipe down the car, but he only succeeded in smearing the dirt and smudges around. Great plan, William.

He didn’t stop what he was doing or even slow his movements when he heard the front door open. He felt her watching him for a few moments.

“William? What the hell are you doing?” Her voice came from just beside him, and he jumped, the garden hose falling from his grasp and causing water to spray across his legs.

“Cleaning your car,” he replied, picking up the hosepipe and clicking it off. “It was dirty.”

“I can see that,” she said, leaning forward to examine the new smudges that his not-so-genius plan had created. “Why?”

“Wanted to talk to you,” William said, meeting her gaze, “and you didn’t answer the door, even though you were home. Thought I’d make myself useful and try to entice you outside.” He put his hands on his waist, fingers splayed across tight, defined abs.

Buffy swallowed and had the good grace to look ashamed, despite the blush that stained her cheeks. “I thought I made myself clear the other day,” she whispered. “You know, after—”

“Yeah, clear as mud,” William said. “We had sex, more than once I might add, and then you kicked me out. Right clear, that is.”

“Shh!” Buffy said, glancing around worriedly. “Come inside.”

William grinned and set the hose down on the ground. “Glad to.”

***

Instead of leading him to the kitchen, as he’d expected, Buffy had him follow her into the living room. She sat down on the sofa, and he stood next to the big armchair for a couple of moments before kicking off his boots and starting to unbuckle his jeans.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked.

“Got my jeans all wet,” he said, sliding them down his legs. “Don’t want to ruin your furniture.” Clad now only in black boxer shorts, he sat down and looked at her expectantly, his expression softening and voice turning serious. “We need to talk about what happened the other day.”

“I can’t—” she said. “I can’t concentrate with you being all half-naked. You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“Would you feel more comfortable if you were half-naked too?” he asked, with a grin.

“No!”

William shrugged. “Just checking.” He sighed, and reached across for one of the big throw cushions on the sofa, which he hugged to himself. “Better? Could borrow something of yours, I suppose, but I don’t think any of your frilly skirts or dresses would suit me.”

“Oh, I dunno,” Buffy said and smiled. A beat later, and the smile fell from her face, a frown replacing it. She shook her head and looked to be berating herself, before she met his eyes. “You’re right, though. We need to talk.”

“Yeah.”

“What happened the other day… it shouldn’t have,” she said.

“Why?” William demanded.

“You even need to ask that? You’re seventeen, Will. I’m your teacher, for God’s sake.”

“That didn’t seem to matter when you were fucking me,” he said.

“It was a mistake,” Buffy replied.

“A mistake you made three times in a row?”

“I let my hormones get the better of me,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly. “I’m sorry, Will, but it shouldn’t have happened.”

“You’re right; it shouldn’t have. But it did, and you know it wasn’t just hormones. We have something, Buffy.” he stood up, dropping the cushion on the floor, and knelt down in front of her. “You can’t deny there’s something between us.”

“But—”

“Shh.” He touched the side of her face. “This is about you and me. We could have something good here, and who cares about the other stuff?”

“We should care,” she whispered. “If anyone found out…”

“They won’t,” William said. “Not if we’re careful.”

“Will… If we do this, no one can know.”

“I know.” He felt elation begin to bubble in the pit of his stomach.

“Not even your friends.” She paused. “Especially not your friends.”

“I know.” He took her hands in his. “Buffy, I’m not taking this lightly.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, which ended on a laugh, and squeezed his hands. “Okay. We’re doing this. Okay.”

“You won’t regret it,” William said, then frowned, his words bringing to mind what Buffy had said to him the morning after they’d slept together. “Can I ask something? That morning, you sent me away because you were afraid, right? Not because…” he trailed off. “Not because I was… it was—bad?”

“No!” She sat forward, bringing her mouth close to his. The scent of her filled him and made his mouth water. “God, no. It was wonderful. Really. You’re right; I was afraid. I woke up and I saw you, and my first thought was to kiss you, but then I panicked. I was scared of what had happened between us, because of, you know, the unusual situation. I’m still scared. But… I’m sorry. Sorry I got all bitchy-Buffy. You didn’t deserve that.”

“S’all right. I forgive you,” he said teasingly.

“Good,” she replied, before closing the gap between their mouths and kissing him, hard.

William groaned at the taste of her—chocolate, he thought, and something else, something sharp and sinful, fruity and sweet all at once.

Buffy broke the kiss to pull her summer dress up over her head, and his eyes widened when he saw what she was wearing beneath: a silky, pale-pink bra with matching panties, the sides tied together in a bow. The material was thin and sheer; he could see the buds of her nipples straining against the silk and her dark strip of hair beneath the knickers.

“You dressed up for me,” he said with a grin.

“Shut up.”

He cupped her breasts, the satiny material and the weight of them in his hands feeling wonderful. He pressed lightly on her shoulder, backing her up along the sofa, until she lay with her head over the armrest, hair falling down almost to the floor and legs hitched up, so he could perch between them.

William touched her breasts again, thumbing her nipples through her bra, loving the way they puckered and hardened at his touch. “I love your boobs,” he said, delighting in the way they moved beneath his hands when she laughed at his words.

“Every man loves boobs,” she said, and tilted her head back with a gasp when he closed his mouth around her nipple.

“Yeah, but yours are especially lovely,” he replied, resting his chin on her chest and looking up at her with a grin. “All round and firm but still nice and bouncy. And these,” he said, rubbing one nipple with his thumb while lightly biting the other through her bra. “I really like these.”

Buffy laughed. “I didn’t know sex could be fun.”

William stopped what he was doing and looked up at her again. “You didn’t?”

“No. Well, yeah, it always feels good, but I’ve never laughed with a guy like this before. And the one time I did, it was because… well—” She raised her hand and waggled her little finger in the air. “I couldn’t help myself. You should have seen it.”

“Poor guy,” William said. “No complaints in that department for me, I hope.”

“Nope, none at all.” She smiled, and then frowned when he didn’t move. “You gonna get back to what you were doing?”

“Bossy. I like it.” William ran his hands down her sides and then back up again, before curling his fingers inwards and tickling her.

She writhed beneath him, laughter bubbling up and spilling over. “Stop, stop!”

He didn’t; his hands moved furiously across her stomach, and he delighted every time he felt her flesh jump, every time she giggled throatily. “Say the magic words.”

“Stooooop!” Buffy said through breathless laughter. “I ca—I can’t—breathe!”

“Say the magic words,” William said again, laughing himself when Buffy kicked her legs out and dug her fingers into his sides, tickling him in retaliation. “Say, William Giles is a Sex God and I can’t wait to have his cock inside me again!”

“I’m not saying that!”

“Say it,” William said again, tickling her sides.

“All right, all right! WilliamGilesisasexgodandIcan’twaittohavehiscockinsidemeagain!”

He stilled his hands and tilted his head to one side. “Hmm, not sure I got that. Maybe I should tickle you again?”

“Don’t you dare.” She began to scowl, but smiled instead.

“I think I might.” He slid his hand down her stomach and past the ties of her panties, to the curve of her thigh. “Might tickle you here.” He cupped her mound and pressed the heel of his hand hard against her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she repeated, her head falling back across the arm of the sofa again. “Yeah, do that.”

He rubbed her through the silky material and felt how wet she was. Sliding down her body, he nipped lightly at her stomach and then touched his tongue to her through her panties. The taste of her almost made his eyes roll back in his head, and he shuddered.

Pulling at the ties on the sides of her underwear, he let the scrap of silk slide off her like butter. He’d seen her pussy before but not like this, not spread wet and wanting beneath him, glistening with her juices and oh-so-ready for his mouth.

William kissed the inside of her thigh before licking her hard, bottom to top. She gasped, and he did it again, a little slower this time, savouring the moment. He purposefully avoided her clit, though he could see it hard and pulsing. Instead, he spread her folds with his fingers and pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her slit, before delving his tongue inside and curling it upwards.

Buffy yelled his name, and he took a moment to look up the length of her body. A more erotic sight William had never seen; she lay spread across the sofa with her head thrown backwards, her long blonde hair trailing the floor. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open and her chest was heaving with short, sharp gasps for air.

She had pulled down the cups of her bra, and the fingers of her right hand were plucking furiously at her nipple, rubbing and twisting the hardened peak.

William’s cock felt ready to burst, and she hadn’t even touched him.

He pulled away from her, and she moaned, her hand coming down to grasp at his head, to keep him there. “Don’t stop,” she murmured.

Pushing two fingers inside of her, he dropped his head back down and closed his lips around her clit. She bucked up at the first touch of his tongue to her hardened bud, and William thrust his hips against the sofa, craving friction, contact of any kind.

He licked and sucked, his fingers moving in and out of her pussy, curling up to stroke her inner walls, trying to find the spot that would make her scream.

Buffy kept one hand on his head, alternately scratching lightly at his scalp and pulling at his hair. Her other hand still cupped her breast, and she was biting her bottom lip so hard it had turned white.

William sped up the movements of his tongue and could tell from the tension in her body that she was close, that it wouldn’t be long before she came. He thrust again against the sofa, his erection so hard it almost hurt. He longed for her touch, imagined how it would feel to have her mouth wrapped around him, her hands cupping his balls, pulling, touching, licking, stroking.

When she arched against his mouth, and he felt her walls begin to pulse around his fingers, he drew his head back and watched her come. The sight was too much for him; he felt his own body shudder in release.

They lay together panting, until Buffy raised her head. “Did you just…?”

“Um.” He looked down sheepishly, half expecting laughter. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Sorry.”

“No! No sorry. It’s actually… kind of hot.” She grinned. “Shower?

William smirked, liking the way her mind worked. He nodded. “Shower.”

***

“So, you’ll come?” William asked. He turned to his side and propped his head up on his elbow, smiling at Buffy. She was sitting cross-legged in the shade of the large tree at the back of her yard, and had a sketchbook propped open on her lap, her pencil moving furiously across the page.

“I don’t know,” she replied, not looking up from her drawing. “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. Not when we’re trying to keep this under wraps.”

“No one has to know,” he said, pulling up handfuls of grass. “I’ll be good as gold—no naughty touching, or even naughty looking. Cross my heart.”

“There’ll be swimsuits involved.” She smiled. “So you might want to rethink that last one.”

William sat up, squinting a little when the sun hit his eyes. “That’s a yes, then? You’ll come?”

She set her sketchbook to one side with a sigh, and drew her knees up to her chest. “I guess. Jenny’s been asking too, so…”

“Excellent.” William let out a whoop of excitement and tackled her back into the grass, landing a kiss on her mouth before she could stop him. He sat back and caught sight of the pages of her sketchbook fluttering in the wind. He snagged it up and flicked to the back and her most recent drawing: one of himself reclined on the ground, a cheeky half-smile on his face.

“Hey!” Buffy said, trying to take the book back. “It’s not done yet.”

“Looks done to me. It’s really good, love.” He met her eyes. “Really.”

“I like drawing you.” She reached out and traced the hollows of his cheekbones, the curve of his lower lip. “Lots of interesting angles. I shouldn’t, you know.”

“Shouldn’t what?”

“Draw you.” She took the sketchbook from him and ripped out the page.

“Why not?” William asked, though he thought he had figured out the reason.

“Evidence,” Buffy replied. “We may have decided that this relationship feels right, but for anyone on the outside, it’s wrong. Illegal even. If anyone finds this…”

She moved to tear up the sketch, but he reached out and stayed her hand. “Don’t,” he said, inwardly thrilled that she had acknowledged the thing between them as a relationship, and at the same time dismayed that she was about to tear up her drawing. “Lock it away under your bed or in the attic, but don’t rip it up.”

“You’re just a big softy at heart, aren’t you?” She smiled at him and, instead of ripping the piece of paper in half, she slipped it back inside the sketchbook. “All right. No destroying of the artwork. You win.”

He winked at her. “I always do.”