It was when the heavens opened up and let forth a rainstorm like he’d never seen.

Years down the road, if he ever gave it a second thought, he would realize that that was what turned his life on its side.

William Sinclair cursed, not for the first time, his inability to say no. In his mind’s eye, it was easy: “You know, I’m not the door to door type”, or “Sorry, but I’m not the bloke for the job”, or--his personal favourite at that moment-- “Piss off--I’m not interested!”

But no. When that blonde ditz--what was her name? Charity? Melody? Ah yes, Harmony. When Harmony had approached him, big dopey eyes all watery, lips set in a pout, whinging that she only needed one more person to complete her team of canvassers, he’d opened his mouth and said... “sure, pet”.

Not what he’d wanted to say, but then--when had his life gone as he’d wanted it to?

Either way, he finally found himself standing before his last house. Not last on his list, but screw the list when THE flood’s starting right before your eyes. Or all over your unprotected head, as was the case for William.

The house was a small bungalow; not much to look at, really. Actually, it was a bit of an eyesore. The paint on the concrete steps had chipped to give them a nice calico effect, the driveway was in need of serious repair--unless it was a testing strip for SUVs--and the shrubbery... well, best not to go there. William climbed the steps, making sure to avoid using the railing that was held by a couple of screws and the grace of God, and slammed the door knocker three times.

The brass knocker really didn’t go with the rest of the house, William decided as he waited for someone to answer the door. Almost comically large for the average-sized door, the brass lion’s head was just... well, it just didn’t fit.

When no one answered his knock, the young man dared to peer into the window that lay next to the door. Usually, he’d just shrug and move on to the next house, but since this was his last house he decided to give it some extra effort.

Inside, he could see a young woman in the kitchen, staring intently at the oven. Weird.

***

Eight minutes. Eight minutes was all it took to bake a sheet of chocolate chip cookies. Buffy knew that--really, she did--but for some god forsaken reason, she’d never been able to bake a perfect sheet of cookies. Sometimes she’d take them out too early, but more often than not she’d be distracted by something and they’d end up burnt beyond salvation.

Distractions, for example, like that idiot at the door. The one who was obviously aiming at slamming her prized door knocker straight through solid oak. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and by default that pretty much ensured that anyone on the other side of her door was going to hassle her for a contribution of some sort. That or they wanted to help her find God.

She called out, eyes still riveted on her cookies. “Just a minute!”

“Argh! Alright! I’m coming...” She hesitated one last time, casting a nervous glance at her cookies. She’d have just enough time to tell whoever it was to piss off and...

***

Finally! The bint was about to open the door. William was ready to give up when the door swung open and he stood face-to-face with a scowling young woman.

The rain that soaked him to the bone was forgotten as his eyes met with fiery green ones--she was brassed off at him, he was certain of that. And for the first time in three long years he felt the familiar stirrings caused by a beautiful woman.

Three years had seen him purposely shunning the fairer sex. Who would want him after... Who would have the time or patience to put up with what now set him apart from most of society?

His heart jumped as--as if in slow motion--her tongue traced the length of her lower lip. Her mouth opened and...

***

“Are you deaf or something? I called out and said I was coming! Sheesh...”

Buffy’s mind at that moment was on her cookies. The cookies that were undoubtedly burning--ones that would become like all her other batches: unsalvageable.

When she finally did notice the young man who was standing outside her door, in the pouring rain, she took a deep breath and held it. A shock of bleached blonde hair, chiselled features and eyes the colour of the sky over the sea. And soaking wet.

She tugged on his sleeve and motioned for him to come in out of the rain. She began to apologize profusely as she ran back to the oven. “Look, I’m really sorry about making you wait out there. I didn’t even know it was raining, but then I have a batch of cookies in the oven and I don’t want them to burn. You see, I always burn cookies--I just can’t get them to come out just right, no matter how many times I try, so you can imagine how anal I get the more times I...”

He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t made a sound--no coughing, no interrupting, no nothing. Buffy pulled the burnt cookies from the oven with a pout and turned back to the stranger. He still stood in the hall entrance, dripping on her welcome mat--not that she cared, as she was partly to blame for his being soaked. Their eyes met for a brief moment before the young woman walked back to the hall.

“Look, I’m sorry about the whole ‘drag you in my house’ thing. You must think I’m a few sandwiches short of a party tray.”

All she got out of him was a raised eyebrow and a smirk. He was royally beginning to creep her out and her patience was wearing thin. “Look, is there anything I can do for you or did you just come here to stare at me?”

William snapped out of his daze and remembered the reason for which he was knocking at her door. Reaching into his inside coat pocket, he pulled out a small card and handed it to the blonde beauty.

“Huh?” Buffy took the proffered card and read it. He was deaf. That was why he hadn’t replied to anything she’d said to him since pulling him in out of the rain. Holding her hand up to her chest, her face paled. What are you, deaf or something? The words she’d thrown at him came back to haunt her. “Oh God, I’m so sorry, I...”

“That’s all right love, you couldn’t have known.” Although he had lost his hearing only three years prior, William had worked hard at learning to read lips. He’d also caught her ‘are you deaf’ gripe but had let it slide--after all, how many times had he used it before the accident?

The young woman’s eyebrows furrowed. “If you’re deaf, than how can you know what I’m saying?” She had an inherent mistrust of men. Maybe this guy was just trying to weasel his way into her home using a sympathy card.

Good, at least she’s facing me now. “Cause I can read lips, pet. If you’re facing me, all I need to do is concentrate on that luscious mouth of yours.” That’s it, mate. Scare her away. Why don’t you just ask her for a shag right here on her living room floor while you’re at it?

Buffy knew she should have told him to cool his heels, but she felt oddly attracted to the man. Her ’luscious mouth’ turned up into a shy smile before she remembered that he was soaked to the bone. “Oh my! You’re soaking wet...” Three steps and the distance between them had been closed. She began pulling at his long leather coat, babbling as she went along. “You must be so cold, here--hand me your coat, I’ll hang it in the bathroom and we’ll see if we can get it to dry. I might also have some of my ex’s clothes left over in a box somewhere, but I’ll have to look a bit to find them because I just moved here and who knows where they are. I‘m sure you‘ve been through this...” A long cool finger on her mouth put a stop to her babbling.

The small blonde was adorable, but he had no idea where she was going with his coat, or why she was pulling on his t-shirt. She couldn’t be dragging him to the bedroom, could she? Stuff like that didn’t happen to William. He slid his finger off her oh-so-kissable lips and down to her chin before tilting her head upwards. Looking her in the eyes, he smiled warmly so that she wouldn’t take the act the wrong way. “Pet, I haven’t caught a word of what you’ve said. You have to face me when you talk.”

Oh, looking him in the face wasn’t going to be a problem. Not blushing, on the other hand, might prove a bit more tricky. Buffy explained about the coat and the clothes. “And I’ve got a pot of soup cooking on the stove.” She smiled sheepishly before adding “trust me, I’m much better at soup than at cookies.”

William agreed to everything. Anything to stay in the presence of this stunning young woman. So he began to unlace his Doc Martens, casting quick glances across the living room. It was obvious that she hadn’t moved in very long ago. Her furniture was sparse, her walls bare, cheap bamboo roller blinds hastily thrown up over the large front window. Placing his boots neatly on the welcome mat, he walked towards a small shelf which displayed a few picture frames.

One of them contained an older grainy picture of a little blonde girl in pigtails--he guessed that it was probably a picture of her. The second one was of three women, maybe her mother, her sister and herself. There was a family resemblance, although they each had distinct features. And the third one... “Gah!” The third one went flying, as a hand tapped William on the shoulder, scaring the life out of him. Clutching his chest, he turned around to watch the young woman babbling and gesticulating wildly, obviously apologizing.

“Look, I’m sorry, I tried to walk around to the side so you could see me, but there isn’t any room with the boxes and it’s not like I can clear my throat or anything...” At the bemused look she’d garnered from the bleached blonde, she closed her mouth with a sharp clack. More slowly, and much more clearly, she tried again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to approach you from behind. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Well, at least she was both a quick learner and a good reader of body language. He’d give her that much. William took the clothing she held out to him and shook his head. “Don’t worry, pet. I shouldn’t have been snooping around like that. If I would’ve been minding my own business, I would’ve been facing you.” Unable to hold back a leer (and Lord, he’d missed flirting!), he rolled his tongue behind his teeth. “Is there anywhere I can go to change, or shall I do it right here?”

Unh... Right here would be nice... Buffy’s eyes grew wide at her inner monologue. This was a stranger! A stranger with god-given cheekbones, striking blue eyes, a soft, fleshy lower lip... She cursed her unfulfilled sex drive. Damn you, celibacy! Damn you to hell! “Uh... the bathroom! You can change in the bathroom! It’s just down the hall. Bring your clothes back out and I’ll throw them in the dryer for you.”

When the young man nodded and walked away, Buffy ran into the kitchen. What on earth was she doing?! This guy just showed up on her doorstep! So what if he was deaf--physical impairment does not exclude people from the ability to kill! Ok, maybe she was taking this a bit too far. Now she was being paranoid. Her instinct was telling her that he wasn’t a rapist, or a murderer. She was getting the green light safety-wise. And she’d always had good reason to trust her instinct.

Busying herself with setting the table, she began to smile. It would be nice to finally have a meal with someone, instead of alone. She missed her mother and her sister, and she cursed Angel for having dragged her out here. Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise in the doorway. Looking up, she took a step back and let the ladle she was holding drop to the floor.

William had to chuckle at the young woman’s reaction. It felt good to feel sexy again. He held out the black t-shirt he’d been given, opening it so she could see it. “Don’t know about you, but I don’t think this was your ex’s t-shirt, luv.” The shirt, a baby tee, had ’Vixen’ written on it, in a Victorian font.

“Oops!” Buffy reached for the shirt, when what she really wanted to do was push it aside and head straight for his abs. The man obviously worked out, if his chiselled physique indicated anything, and her reaction pleased him, by the look on his face. Blushing, she said “I’ll go get you another one” before rushing by him.

He was tempted to follow her to the bedroom, to press her up against the wall and kiss her till her lips were swollen. To feel her body pressed up against his, soft breasts and curves his to discover with tantalizingly languid strokes. He hadn’t had a woman in so long he considered himself a born-again virgin. Fidgeting, William cursed the baggy pants for displaying his arousal. Maybe if he sat down, he could get away with it...

In her bedroom, Buffy was facing a conundrum. Well, not a very virtuous one, really. In her hands, she held one of Angel’s old t-shirts. She sat on the corner of her bed, lip worried between her teeth. By all rights, the t-shirt should be in the young man’s hands--or on his chest, rather, but she couldn’t help but wish to hide it under the bed and claim to have none. I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t find one. That way, he’d have to walk around bare-chested for her to ogle.

Do I, don’t I? It was the million-dollar question. Would ethics or libido win out? After months of celibacy, the answer was quite clear. Leaning over, she pulled up the ruffle at the edge of the bed and...

“Did you find one?”

...shot back up, t-shirt extended at arm’s length. With an overly cheerful grin and flaming cheeks, Buffy nodded enthusiastically. “Yup. Found it, uh, right here, under the bed...”

When ten minutes had gone by and the young woman still hadn’t come back, William had decided to look for her. Anything could have happened--she could have had a seizure, or an asthma attack. From the corner of the doorway, he’d watched her clutch the t-shirt, knuckles white. He hadn’t said anything, thinking that it had brought up painful memories. But when he watched her nod her head, as if a decision had been made, and pull up her ruffle and attempt to hide the shirt, he almost laughed out loud. Vixen, he thought to himself, wants to look at my body, does she? Pride filled him--he hadn’t lost his sex appeal after all.

He walked up to where she still stood, gave her a knee-weakening smile, and took the article of clothing from her. “Thanks, pet,” he purred before turning back towards the doorway. He made a show of putting the shirt on--even if it was two sizes too big--making sure to flex the muscles in his back. Not allowing himself to even think that he was trying to seduce a perfect stranger in her own home--did he even have any condoms on him?!--William revelled in the flirting.

Buffy’s legs gave way underneath her and she found herself once again sitting on the edge of her bed. What on earth led her to pull this man into her house, practically disrobe him, and come this close to jumping him in her bedroom?! It had to be lack of sex. Lack of sex was what had led to Angel, and although that had been good while it lasted, was she ready for something else? Was she capable of the one-night stand? Her body was screaming ‘hell yeah!’, but her mind and heart weren’t so sure. Forcing herself to shake any and all thoughts of sex out of her head, she stood up and walked out of the room. After all, she’d offered the man some dinner.

***

“You’re joking, right?! You mean they tried to lay the blame on you?” Buffy’s spoon dangled between her bowl and her mouth as she took in the man’s--William, as he’d finally introduced himself--story.

William nodded, spreading butter on a cracker. “They said that I hadn’t properly checked the equipment. Thing is, that was maintenance’s job, not mine. We had to resort to pulling out the standard operating procedure sheets, and lo and behold I was right.” It felt good to talk to Buffy about this. He hadn’t had much of an opportunity to discuss it with someone outside of his circle, someone who would have been impartial. He was never sure if his family and friends’ ‘poor dear’s and ‘of course you were right’s were stated out of logic or pity.

“That was a smart idea. Do you know if they changed the procedure after the settlement?” Buffy was grateful for the intelligent company that was sitting at her kitchen table. It had been a while since she’d been face to face with someone and just chatted. Even if the topic was about how William had lost his hearing. But he no longer let it sour his mood, so she didn’t let it bother her either. She imagined that the last thing he needed was to hear ‘oh, I’m so sorry’ one more time.

So she offered him the best she could--frank opinions and a friendly ear, something he seemed to greatly appreciate, if his demeanour told her anything.

William no longer cared if he got sex out of this evening. He was truly enjoying Buffy’s company; she was the first person who didn’t treat him differently because of his disability. And she made a bloody great bowl of soup, to boot.

***

As he rinsed their dishes in the sink, the young man passed them over to his host so she could place them in the dishwasher. “Look, I really appreciate what you’ve done for me. You know you didn’t have to do any of this--bein’ in the rain was my own fault. I can’t help but feel like I owe you.”

“Oh, you don’t owe me anything, really! I mean, all I did was stick your clothes in the dryer and feed you some soup. It doesn’t exactly make me Mother Teresa, you know.” Of course, certain payback scenarios had flashed through her mind, like a series of 8mm film clips, but none of them were PG-13, which meant that she sure as hell wasn’t going to suggest them.

“But you deserve something...” Without thinking, he allowed the following thought to slip off of his tongue. “How about a kiss?”

“A kiss?” Buffy felt her blood rush to her cheeks.

“Yes, a kiss.” Inwardly, he cringed at his offer; it seemed so forward, so macho. She’d just met him--why would she kiss him? The accident had left William with a very low self-esteem when it came to women, but he forced himself to hold her gaze. So he was surprised when she wove her fingers through his hair and smiled, before leaning up towards him.

Her lips were soft and giving, caressing his own like an old lover’s; her tongue traced his lips as if trying to memorize their curves. William brought his hands up to her hair, pulling out the tie that held it in a ponytail. He broke the kiss, leaning back to watch how her hair fell to her shoulders. Like a wave of golden silk, he thought to himself. No longer able to resist his body’s pull to her, he gave in to his desire.

“Close your eyes, pet.” His voice was low and husky, and to Buffy it held an almost hypnotizing lull to it. Their proximity was also playing on her ability to think clearly--her, pressed back against the kitchen counter, him almost pressed against her, so close she could feel the heat that radiated off him. Only slightly taller than her, he still tilted his head to look down into her eyes, his deep blue gaze begging her to do as he bade. There was no malice, no wrongful intent in them. Maybe a bit of playfulness, though.

So the young woman closed her eyes and waited. She jumped up when she felt something tickle her ankle; opening her eyes, she realized that he’d gotten down to his knees at her feet. A rush of warmth spread throughout her body and made her legs feel like Jell-O. Looking down at him, she made sure he could see what she was saying. “William? What are you doing?”

“Buffy, please keep your eyes closed. I swear I won’t do anything you won’t like.” Maybe this wasn’t going to work. These kinds of games were the type you played with an old girlfriend, someone who trusted you. The woman in front of him was certainly not the former, and the question in her eyes made him doubt that trust was top of the bill right now. But he asked her anyway. She deserved it. This wonderful woman who renewed all these feelings inside of what used to be a dead shell deserved to be worshipped body and soul.

Surprising even herself, the young woman closed her eyes anew. Her hands gripped the countertop, but she forced herself to remain calm. She trusted William, and that’s what scared her the most. A man whom she had known for scant hours, and she knew that he would not hurt her. When she felt his tongue circle her ankle, she gasped. The heat that had warmed her limbs now drifted towards her centre. If this felt so good, what would it be like if...

“Oh!” Her head flew back, hands still gripping the countertop, knuckles white. He’d bitten her! On the calf, at that. As his hands slid up her legs, closely followed by his lips, tongue and teeth, Buffy couldn’t stop the moans that came from deep in her throat. No one had ever done anything this erotic to her.

In his mind, William could hear her; each grunt and groan, every hitch in her breathing. But the twitches, the shivers--those, he felt them all, as if his own body was an extension of hers. She tasted so good, the salt from her sweat, the vanilla from her lotion. It all culminated in a taste that was particular to this blonde goddess. Pulling his mouth away from the inside of her thigh, he rocked back to rest on his haunch. Calloused, shaking hands caught the edges of her skirt and underwear and slid them down her lean, tanned legs.

He turned his eyes up to her face, watching with rapture how her head was flung back, her neck taut, her chest heaving. “Part yourself for me, love.” Please, God, don’t let this be a dream...

Buffy’s head lowered until her gaze met his. She laughed nervously. “I can’t.”

William’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“If I let go of the counter, I’m gonna fall flat on my ass. You‘ve reduced me to jelly, my dear William.” Before she knew it, her lover was once again standing chest to chest with her. He took her in his strong arms, one underneath her knees, one behind her back. His lips were a hair’s breadth from her ear, and she shook at the intensity of the words that were being whispered at her.

“How ‘bout if I lie you down on that bed of yours? Will you part yourself, then? Will you take your fingers and touch yourself, part your pretty pussy for my tongue?” He licked the shell of her ear before continuing. “It makes me so hard when women touch themselves, you know. It’s so bloody erotic...”

Gah... Buffy’s mental capacity was waning. Why was this man not attached?! Three years, he’d been without a woman. Now that she was the object of his affections, the thought of him being celibate struck her as unnatural, immoral, even. He oozed sexuality, made her wetter than Angel had ever managed to with only a few well-chosen words. She’d never been spoken dirty to before... Unable to force the words out, she simply nodded. It was easier for both of them that way.

When they reached the bedroom, William tossed the young woman onto the bed. He didn’t know where all this sexual confidence stemmed from, but he chalked it up to three years of going without. Starting at the foot of the bed, he pulled off his t-shirt before prowling towards her, watching her eyes grow large with fear and arousal. When he reached the apex of her thighs he stopped and lowered himself to lie between her legs.

Although Buffy’s mind had blanked out, she still had enough presence of mind to remember the words his hot breath had tickled in her ear. She was nervous; she’d never touched herself in front of someone before. This was just something that hadn’t come up in her previous relationship, and now she found herself unsure as to what she should do.

William saw her eyes dart from her fingers to her pussy, and the hesitation that followed. He bit back a groan. As if he wasn’t hard enough already... Taking her right hand, he folded all but the first two fingers down onto her palm. “Put these in your mouth first; it feels better if they’re wet.” The next groan he couldn’t hold back. The sight of her tongue darting across her fingers, leaving them glistening with her saliva --the vixen was playing him, that much he could suss out--made his own mouth water.

“Good.” His voice was rough. He closed his eyes, trying to regain some composure. They flew back open, though, when he felt those same fingers tracing his lips, smearing her juices over them. Oh, Christ, I’m gonna come in my pants for sure... His lips parted and his tongue drew in those coated digits, and he took in his first taste of Buffy Summers.

He was an instant addict.

His hands gripped her thighs and he had to conscientiously refrain from bruising her. He could feel her body shaking in anticipation as her fingers spread her nether lips for him, parting the way for his eager tongue.

Buffy was surprised when she felt William’s tongue trace the folds of her vagina. She’d expected him to jump right into it and latch onto her clit. After all, that’s what men did, didn’t they? A moan escaped her parted lips at the feel of his ministrations. His tongue and a finger were mimicking each other, one at her clit and the other at her entrance. Tracing, teasing, not quite giving yet promising so much. Here was a man who valued slow, sensual foreplay.

Finally, the young woman felt her lover’s mouth encircle her clit and, at the same time, insert a finger into her pussy. Her fingers left their assigned spot to weave into his hair, pressing his face against her pelvis. From her mouth came a litany of pleas, all of which fell on his deaf ears. “Oh, pleasepleaseplease,” “more,” “God, keep doing that...” She didn’t care that he couldn’t hear her; her body was speaking for her, fingernails lightly digging into his scalp, thighs quivering, pelvis tilting, trying to get closer and closer to that sweet spot that she knew only he could help her reach.

And Buffy came hard, screaming William’s name at the top of her lungs in a long drawn-out wail. Still panting, she removed her hands from his hair with a concentrated effort. Her gaze cast down past her heaving chest, she gave him a sultry look before she crooked a finger underneath his chin, pulling him to her, smashing her lips to his passionately. She began to grind her pelvis up against his erection as their tongues duelled, her release only serving to increase her lust for him.

The young man pulled away, his lips hovering mere millimetres from his lover’s face. Her warm breath tickled him, taunted him to go faster, further. His nerves were frayed, his muscles twitched--he needed it all. But he wanted to savour that pleasure which he hadn’t tasted in three years, wanted it to go on and on until he was consumed with madness. “Buffy, love, slow down. I won’t last if you keep doing that...”

Drawing her lips away from his neck, Buffy whispered, “I’m sorry” in his ear, but then remembered that that was futile. So, instead, she pulled back and apologized. With a bit of distance between them, she realized how tense he was, how ready to explode. Wanting to return his favour, she pressed her palm flat against his chest and, licking her lips, instructed him to roll over onto his back.

Whatever was in that mind of hers wasn’t going to help things, that much William was sure of. He needed to go take a cold shower; ok, maybe two or three cold showers. Because the sight of Buffy hovering over him, licking, nipping, tasting her way down his chest, wasn’t his definition of slowing down. Reaching for her, his hands grasped her arms. “Buffy, if you do what I think you’re planning on doing, I can’t be responsible for what doesn’t come after, if you catch my meaning.”

The young woman paused as she tried to interpret his words. When she’d caught the sense of what he had said, she smiled. “William--how long has it been, since you’ve been pleasured?”

“Three bloody long years.” Thanks for reminding me, pet.

“So, after three years of holding out, you think you’re going to come once, and then that’s it? No more happies for the evening?” She arched a brow, eyes twinkling in mischief. “I think that you’re not even going to soften. I bet you stay as hard as you are now.” The last words were punctuated with a playful pat on the bulge in his pants.

William bit his lip as he watched Buffy, in all her naked glory--when did she take her top off? Or did I do that?--rise up onto her knees between his legs, working at the knot that bound the cord of his slouchy pants. For two strangers who’d just met, they shared an unusual level of comfort, like that typical of long-married couples. When she tugged at the waistband, he lifted his rear off the bed just long enough for her to slip the offending clothing off. He was now as vulnerable to her as she was to him, and that was oddly satisfying.

So the answer to her unasked question was ‘yes’. His hidden bits were as beautiful as the rest of him. Well, as beautiful as a penis can be, anyway. Settling herself comfortably between the bleached blonde’s legs, she took him in her small hand and gave a squeeze, pulling upwards; a small trickle of clear fluid appeared, glistening as it was forced from its hole. Her gaze locked with his as she darted her tongue out, slowly cleaning the tip of his penis of the liquid. Encouraged by the heat in his eyes, she began laving him with her tongue.

A strangled groan escaped his lips as she took his length in her mouth, stopping only when he hit the back of her throat. Slowly, she slid him back out, taking great care to press against the sensitive spot just below the head. She tortured him with that mouth of hers, going fast, then slow; alternating between licks, kisses and sucks; being sloppy at it, because it seemed to turn him on even more. At one point, she withdrew completely, making him whimper. Blowing a cool stream of air on his cock, she chuckled at his twitching, then engulfed him completely, squeezing him with her throat muscles.

“Christ! Oh, Buffy, I’m not gonna last much longer, love...” He could feel it. It had been so long since anyone besides himself had touched down there, never mind someone’s soft lips and hot mouth, and roaming hands cupping his balls and squeezing them just right... He barked out a warning just before he came, his last thought being one of gratefulness that the comfort of her mouth hadn’t left him.

When William had his breathing back under control, he opened his eyes and found that Buffy had settled down beside him, her body laid out along his. Rolling onto his side, he draped his leg over her. He placed a kiss on her cheek, whispered ‘thank you’, before tucking a errant strand of hair back behind her ear. “You’re great, you know that? You really know how to get a bloke back off the wagon.”

Buffy leaned into his caress. “I’m glad you liked it. I’ve never... I’ve never done that before.” More than a little embarrassed at her admission, she burrowed against the young man’s shoulder, averting his gaze.

Wha? “What, you mean you’ve never given head before? Fuck... Well, then, you’re right natural at it.”

The young woman chuckled and swatted at him. “No, silly. I mean I never swallowed before.” She could hardly get the words out--where was this prudishness coming from?

“Ah. Did you enjoy it?”

“Dunno. It was kind of salty.”

William laughed out loud, placing another kiss on her nose. “S’alright, love. You don’t have to do it again... Although it was amazing.” He growled playfully and rolled on top of her, kissing her neck and making her squeal. Mid-kiss, he pulled his head back and looked at her, his gaze as naked as hers. “You’re amazing, Buffy. I... I don’t want this to be a one-night stand, not unless you want it to.”

Did she? Earlier, she’d reminded herself that a relationship was far from what she needed. It was still so soon after Angel... No, it isn’t! Her inner voice reminded her. You and Angel parted ways five months ago--you’re just finding excuses so you don’t set yourself up again for another fall. Would William be different? She didn’t even know him, not apart from the chatting they’d done over dinner. But he seemed more than worthy of a chance. After all, setting herself up gave her a 50% chance of succeeding, didn’t it?

“No, I don’t want it to, William. I may not be ready for you to move in with me, but I’d really like to see where we can take this.” She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms behind his neck, pulling him back down to her. Their lips met for a slow, lazy kiss, tongues dancing, bodies relaxed.

“I want to make love to you so much, Buffy, but I haven’t got a bloody condom on me.” A rueful chuckle escaped his lips. “S not like I bring them along with me when I’m canvassing.” He pulled back a little, unable to tear his body away from hers.

Tucking her tongue behind her teeth in imitation of her lover--it was so sexy when he did that--the young woman’s grin grew wide. “It’s ok, I’m on the pill.” Technically, she was lying, but saying she was on the pill was easier to enunciate than trying to explain that she was on birth control injections.

William groaned. Not only was he going to have sex for the first time in just about three years, it would be latex-free. Skin on skin, as nature intended. He rose up above her on his forearms, placing the head of his penis at her entrance. “Are you sure about this?” If she said no, he was sure his cock was going to just fall off.

Buffy nodded, making sure to keep eye contact. She wanted him to know that she was as certain about this as he was. “Yes, Will. I want to feel you inside of me.”

His lips descended upon her neck as he thrust into her in one long stride. She was so warm, so wet for him; William knew he’d never felt anything like it. Her tongue traced the shell of his ear, her breath tickling him--he knew she was babbling--her arms clutched his body, holding him close to her. He fell back on top of her, letting her bear his weight. Tucking his head in the crook of her shoulder, his litany began.

“God, Buffy, it’s so good. How I wish I could hear you right now, every moan as I thrust into your hot pussy, every groan as I pull back out. You’re so wet for me, so fucking tight, you’re going to burn me. I just want to lose myself in you... Scream for me, baby. If I can’t hear you, the neighbours might as well...” He pushed himself back up over her, giving his pistoning a slight twist every time he came in contact with her clit.

The words he was uttering in between his pants and grunts turned Buffy on nearly as much as his actions, and when their eyes locked at last, her lips formed one word: “harder”. William’s eyes rolled back, but a wide grin spread across his lips. His tempo increased until the headboard smashed against the wall in a beat that matched their frenzied coupling. Small plaster chunks began to chip off the wall, but neither blonde cared. All that mattered was each other, and reaching that high that you get at the pinnacle of a release.

The young woman was the first to feel the tightness of an impending climax; her body went rigid for a moment before she let out a long, drawn out wail. Way at the back of her mind, she hoped that the neighbours didn’t call the police. Before her body even stopped twitching, Buffy felt William stop suddenly, mutter ‘Oh, Christ’ before shuddering and letting out a deep moan.

It was the stupidest, ponciest thought, but William was sure he’d seen lights when he came. He didn’t think it could happen, but Buffy’s pussy had become even tighter as she came, gripping his cock and squeezing it until it was borderline painful. That, of course, had pushed him over the edge, the plummet that much more liberating because of how long it had been. The aftershocks of his orgasm seemed to last forever, but they eventually abated and he found himself staring into the warm green eyes of his lover.

“Stay here tonight.” Buffy instantly regretted the words, which she’d spoken too quickly, in her opinion. Way to scare a guy away, Buff. Why don’t you ask him to marry you? Expecting the usual ‘sorry, babe, but I’ve got to go home’, or ‘I’d really like to stay, but...’, she was surprised when he spooned up behind her, pulled the blanket over them and sighed.

“I’d love to, pet.”

***

“William! Oh, blondie bear, I was so worried!”

Usually, Harmony’s dopey smile and crushing hugs, combined with that irritating nickname she called him, annoyed the young man to no end. As in ‘visions of him tearing her throat out’ calibre. But this morning, he had a bit of a skip in his walk and was whistling. Nothing--and, especially, no one--could upset the mood that William Sinclair was in.

He’d woken up wrapped around Buffy’s soft body, sunlight streaming through those ugly bamboo curtains of hers--mental note to buy her some curtains. She’d smiled at him, with her eyes and with her lips; she hadn’t regretted any of it. Quite the opposite, as she’d climbed on top of him and gave him a good start to his day. He’d been invited over for dinner, again, with promises of peanut butter cookies--his favourite.

A man could get used to this.

Now if only he could find a way to ditch this canvassing gig...

Author’s Note: Please let me know if you enjoyed this--it’s really just a bit of fluff, and I never seem to be able to keep my pwp’s at that...