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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N1- A warning for Angel fans-- this doesn't show him in the best light.
A/N2- As always thanks to my awesome (and patient) beta peroxidelove!
Buffy rapped her nails impatiently against Willow's locker.

“Hurry up, Will. I wanna get good seats.”

The last school bell rang for the week and the other students were scrambling to get home. With the exception of a few others, Buffy and Willow would be making their way to the auditorium for Mr. Pratt's film screening.

“What's the rush?” Willow voice was muffled behind her locker door. But when she finally closed it, the last two people on earth whom Buffy wanted to see were leaning against the metal grate.

“Buffy! Can I talk to you?” Angel asked, his arm around his current girlfriend. Looking bored, Darla flipped her blonde hair. She tucked a shiny lock neatly behind her ears, revealing her diamond studs as she warily eyed Angel's ex. Buffy recognized that look in her eye. Darla was giving her the once over, sizing up the competition. It was the sort of look girls usually reserved for other girls; to intimidate them.

“What do you want?” Buffy's tone was flat.

Seeing the two of them together made her tense up. But just being around him at all; it made her ache inside. There was still a part of her that still loved him. No matter how hard she tried to quell those feelings, there were definitely times when it was difficult. Being near him. Hearing his voice.

“Nice to see you too, sweetheart. Remember how you said you'd help me out with my English assignment?”

Even when he acted like an ass hat.

Angel had broken up with her, yet seemed bent on making her life as uncomfortable as possible. Who could blame her for snapping at him when the guy who broke her heart continued to follow her around calling her pet names like it meant something? Not to mention, doing this in front his current girlfriend? Like she needed to be reminded that she wasn't good enough to be with him, except when he needed help with his homework.

“I never said I'd help you.” She hated that he still sought her help with his homework. Angel wasn't the brightest star in the galaxy, and as his girlfriend, she didn't mind helping him, but now she wished he would just leave her alone.

“Cute hair, Buffy.” Darla said with faux enthusiasm. “And Willow, is it fuzzy sweater day again?”

Willow stared at her feet, and Buffy put her arm protectively around her friend.

Angel gave Darla a kiss on the cheek. “Hey babe, why don't you go to the auditorium and save us some seats, okay?”

“Sure, whatever. Don't take too long though.”

Buffy raised her eyebrows. “Why are you guys going to the auditorium?”

“Oh, who's that new teacher? The one with the fake English accent? Mr. Pratt? He's giving extra credit to any student who comes to that lame film club. He's probably going to show some old people movie. I hope it doesn't have subtitles, 'cause that would suck.”

“You two are going to that?” Buffy's voice quivered, nearing the point of losing it. It was one thing to feel like she was over Angel. It was another to be stuck in a room with him, knowing full well that he was going to be making out with his current girlfriend the entire time. Buffy just didn't have the energy to deal with this.

“Yeah, if he's stupid enough to hand out extra credit to anybody who shows up. I'm not even in his class.” He snorted. “Buff, sweetie, let's talk about my essay. I was hoping you'd write it for me, since you're so good with words...”

His voice was drowned by the pounding in her head. She felt like she was going to vomit. Too bad Darla left, would've liked to puke on her thousand dollar shoes.

All of a sudden, Willow piped up. “Buffy and I would be glad to help you with your essay.”

“Really?” He seemed surprised that Willow was still standing there considering his girlfriend had just insulted her. He blinked at the peppiness of her response. ”You're okay, Rosenberg. I just thought you were a nerdy dork.”

“Um, thanks— I think,” Willow mumbled as he squeezed past them.

Once Angel was out of earshot, Buffy poked her.

“Ow!”

“Will, why did you say we'd write his essay?!”

“Didn't you see how desperate he was? He really needs our help.”

I know Willow is always willing to help people, but really?

“I know, but I—” Buffy started to speak but Willow cut her off.

“No, no. He'd be totally lost without us.”

“I don't even know what he needed help with. But you, of all people, know it's wrong to write someone else's paper.”

Willow held up her hand to silence her friend.

“'Didn't you hear how he needed help with the 'Count of Mount Crisco'?”

“I must've missed that part, seeing as I thought I was going to projectile vomit in his direction. Oh yeah, that'll really give me brownie points with the cool kids...wait a sec...Count Crisco?”

Willow was in project mode. “I'm thinking we write his essay for him. Picture this— Count Chocula defends Land O' Lakes from the cinnamon-y paws of the Pillsbury Doughboy. What do you think? It's at best D- work, and that's not taking into account the monstrosity of spelling errors I plan on making.

Buffy could kiss her. “Willow! Look at you! Stepping over to the dark side. ”

Willow gave her a sly smile. “I don't know what you saw in the guy. He's denser than wood. I mean yeah, he's kind of cute if you like that broody type. But you're way too good for him.”

“He was my first... everything. And to lose him to someone like Darla.” She began to fume.

“You know you're like, a hundred times cooler than her.”

“Really? Only a hundred? Think more zeroes, Willow.” She smiled and gave her a friendly hug. It felt good to know someone always had her back.

Willow pulled at her purple jumper. “So, be honest. Is my sweater too fuzzy?”

-***********************-

The auditorium was packed. Apparently these kids needed a lot of extra credit. But scanning the room, she noticed there were mostly girls and theatre types. No doubt, they were there for Mr. Pratt. Except for their friends Xander, Oz, and the aforementioned Angel and his crew, there was nary a heterosexual guy within a fifty foot radius.

She spotted Mr. Pratt fiddling with the switches at the back of the room. With his sleeves, rolled up and his tie removed, he looked ten years younger.

I mean, who wouldn't want a piece of him? Damn, he looks so good. Just like in my dream.

Her tummy did a little flip when she remembered the deliciously naughty things he’d done in her dream. Buffy sighed, if only the line between dreams and reality would blur.

Darla's lilting laughter broke her short-lived day dream. She turned her head to see the two seated at the side of the auditorium. Angel whispered something and Darla swatting him playfully, “Oh Angel! Here? Not in front of everybody!” Angel stroked Darla's neck and grinned, his hand working down her arm, and then down the side of her body to a place Buffy knew all too well. You're beautiful, baby. Let me touch you. Let me make you feel good. She’d let those words worm into her heart once. And it did feel good; to be touched, loved, made to feel like she belonged. And then he dumped her like yesterday's trash.

Buffy didn't care for Darla, long before she became Angel's new girlfriend. Darla belonged to the Aurelius family, which was the largest patron to their school. Angel's excuse for dumping Buffy had to do with a reputation he wanted to uphold; money and power could do a lot for a young man's reputation. It didn't help Buffy that Darla was also incredibly beautiful, with crystalline eyes and a toothy smile.

Theirs was a private school, and as Buffy attended on a scholarship she might as well have stamped ‘poor loser’ on her forehead. Even though she was smart, athletic and pretty, the fact that she had no wealth meant that her peers looked down on her. Or worse, that they talked behind her back while they pretended to be her friend.

Of course she loved that Willow always had her back. She couldn't have asked for a better friend but even so, Buffy was so over high school. Once this hell ended, she was going to high-tail out of this town. Now that she had the grades to make it, Buffy set her sights on her top choice, Northwestern. Though it might be kinda hard to work on my tan in the snow...

Angel looked up and caught poor Buffy staring. There was a slight look of surprise in his eyes as if he didn't expect his ex to watch him paw and feel up the most powerful girl in school. But it didn't stop him. He winked to acknowledge her before continuing whatever ministrations he was performing on Darla. The nerve of that bastard!

She continued to feel the burn in her cheeks when Willow tugged her sleeve.

“Look, it's Xander and Oz!” Willow pointed to their friends, and then frowned. “Oh, there's only one extra seat.”

Her feet were glued to the floor and she could feel her embarrassment well up inside. A lump formed in her throat. Don't cry! All she really wanted to do was turn on her heels and walk out of the place.

Stupid, stupid Buffy! I don't know what I'm trying to prove by coming here. What? That maybe Mr. Pratt would swoop me into his arms and tell the world that he's not just banging his student, but that he loves me ?

If she said it out loud, it would sound even more preposterous. So Buffy bit her lip and groaned instead.

“Nice to see you made it.” William worked his way down the steps. He nodded at Willow. “Ms. Rosenberg, you won't mind if I borrow your friend? I'd like Buffy to take notes for me during the film. She can sit with me.”

“Problem solved.” Willow grinned. “You'll be okay right? Don't let Angel and Darla get to you. We'll work on Operation Crisco later.” She winked.

Buffy could only nod meekly and let Mr. Pratt lead her up the carpeted stairs.

“Are we baking me cookies?” He teased, wondering about the redhead's remark.

“Huh? What? Who has cookies?” She glanced up at him, and then turned her head to peek at Angel when Darla let out a small squeal that pierced the room. A few girls giggled, and a couple of Angel's friends, Riley and Forrest whistled. “Yeah, hit that!” Forrest hollered. It was like a freight crash that she couldn't pull her eyes away from.

Mr. Pratt took note, and followed her gaze. “Never mind,” he said abruptly as he realized where her attention was focused.

They sat side by side at the back of the room. A low divider separated their desk from the last row in the theatre. Buffy took out her notebook while Mr. Pratt asked the students to settle down as he dimmed the lights and flipped on the movie projector.

Lolita, Buffy scribbled at the top of the page. She underlined it for emphasis. And underlined it harder, which snapped her pencil in two. Oops. All the while, Mr. Pratt didn't say a word.

They watched in silence. Preoccupied with her task, she didn't notice Mr. Pratt glancing in her direction. It would have delighted her on any other day, but today, her mind was elsewhere. She imagined the kinds of things Angel must have been doing for Darla to have squealed like that. Her face burned at the thought, and her addled teenage brain couldn't handle the drama.

She forced herself to pay attention to the movie. Just need a good distraction, that's all. Don't think about Angel. Don't think about Mr. Pratt. Just get through the movie and get through today. Keep it together! But, oh, Mr. Pratt, he does look so good in his –

Oh.

She felt a hand brush across her knee, and turned to face him. In the dimly lit room, she couldn't make out the full form of his face, only the shadows of his eyes. They were dark as a stilled storm, heavy and foreboding.

She faltered. “What are you doing?”

He gently lifted her skirt, his fingers sliding across her cool skin and resting flat on her thigh.

“Wiping that frown off your face.”

It was embarrassing how fast she responded to his touch. As if by instinct, her body was preparing itself for him. He greeted the silky feel of juices by idly stroking the hot cotton of her panties, growling at the welcoming warmth of her desire. He quickly pushed them aside and exposed her sex to the world.

“Tell me what's on your mind, sweetheart.” He scooted his chair closer to Buffy, and she grimaced as it scraped across the floor. She prayed no one would turn around, but even if someone did, she doubted she would stop him.

He twisted the fabric and let it dig into her sensitive pussy. Her skin felt raw as his knuckles brushed roughly against her swollen clit. He rubbed against it, knocking the delicate nubbin and demanding entry. “But if your answer has anything to do with that lump of hair gel—” She whimpered and his features softened. The grip slackened. “What did you ever see in him?” He asked softly.

“I don't know. I just loved him.” It came out coarse and lame. Like she was eating her own words and only tasting the bitterness for the first time.

“Do you still?”

“No.”

“Why is that?”

“I'd rather not talk about it.”

He pulled his hand away.

“Hey...”

“I thought we'd have a nice round of share time, but if you'd rather not tell me what's got your panties in a bunch, er... well, not in a bunch, rather, then we can—”

“Fine.” He was proving to come up with all sorts of convincing arguments. “He broke my heart, okay? He decided he didn't want me anymore and dumped me to date Little Miss Syphilis.”

He frowned. “Wow, that's absolutely horrible.”

“I know!”

“No I mean, that title! Imagine riding a float in that parade?” William mimed his best pageant wave and Buffy stiffed a giggle. The laughter came so naturally that she wished she didn't have to keep her voice down. She searched his eyes, allowing their bodies connect shoulder to shoulder.

His voice lowered. “So...are you afraid I'll break your heart too?”

What kind of question was that? The honest answer was yes, but what they had right now wasn't love, was it? On a good day it felt like a losing game of chess, or a tug of war. Naked, sweaty, orgasm inducing tug of war, where one or both players ended up losing the game.

“I didn't know it was yours to break.” She challenged, eyes glittering.

“And there she is.” He turned momentarily to the movie projected on the big screen. Lolita entered the picture, hips in movement, holding a hula hoop in orbit.

“See how relaxed you're getting?” Lolita's mother chimed.

“Well, at least you're not moping anymore.”

“I was not moping. You try seeing your ex with the biggest slut in the school, then see how you feel about it.” She crossed her arms.

“Now, no need to get snippy, darling. It might be good for you to keep your voice down too.” He suggested as a few students stirred in the last two rows at the growing commotion in the back of the room.

She closed her notebook, and folded her arms. “I'm wasn't snipping,” she hissed. “Really, I wasn't.”

“Frankly, I think you had poor taste. From what his teachers say about him, the boy's so dense he'd sink a freighter.”

“He wasn't that bad,” Buffy said quietly.

“Why are you defending him? Must've been a bloke to let a girl like you go.”

“He wasn't always that guy.” She motioned to the boy oblivious to her existence. “He was different; kept promises. After my dad left, he made sure my mom and I were okay. I like to think that he did that because he loved me.”

“Let me tell you something, Buffy. Boys will say and do anything to get what they want from a vulnerable girl. And who's more wounded than a pretty girl with daddy issues? The whole lot of 'em are nothing more than horn dogs on long leashes.”

She looked up suddenly. “So what kind are you? The kind that takes advantage of girls like me? Young, trusting and naïve?”

“Well there's the kicker. I'm not a boy, am I?” He chuckled again. “Not to say that men don't act like boys, but only the brain dead would let you slip through their fingers.” Buffy blushed.

“And I'm not just saying that. You're anything but naïve, darling. You pretend like you are, but I know you. Tasted you. I've seen where you live.” The hand returned to the skirt.

“I think you're gonna make me hurt,” she said carefully. “All men were boys once.”

“Presume not that I am the thing I was.” He abandoned his chair, moving onto her seat till she had no choice but to scoot onto his lap or fall to the ground with a thud. Obviously she couldn't do that! Imagine the horror when the other students turned to see the commotion and found the two of them in their current predicament.

She breathed, unsure if she understood his words or their meaning. “Don't think it know that one.”

“Shakespeare, love. You'll get the lesson soon enough.”

“I will?” She gulped. Her slick pussy pulsed with need. Something about him getting all teacher-y kicked her lust up to another level. He picked up on it immediately and his hand returned to its resting place on her knee.

“I'm still wet,” she announced meekly. “Does that mean anything to you?”

“Not sure.” He sniffed, “All that talk about your ex is killed the mood, didn't it?”

Buffy reached between them, brushing her fingertips over his trousers and taking exactly what she needed. Where this boldness came from, she didn't know, but—

“As long as you're planning to do a lot of laundry tonight and brought a couple of extra big rolls of quarters along,” she smiled. “Then I'd have to go with no.”

“Right then. Oh, you're so innocent and naïve, Buffy.” He chided, rolling his pretty blue eyes.

He let out a low chuckle and adjusted Buffy till she straddled his lap sideways. Caressing her cheek, he tilted her to face him, and gently brushed his lips against hers. He started with a few light kisses, getting her acquainted to the feeling. When Buffy pressed a little harder against him, he kissed her firmly, licking across the edge of her lower lip. Back and forth, back and forth, claiming it as his. Her body melted in his arms, and her belly grew hot. He slipped his tongue into her panting mouth and she tasted peppermint on his breath. More kisses, more touching. It was a soft, slow torture that she'd gladly chain herself up for second helpings. If he would only put that wicked tongue inside her mouth, against her breasts, and taste the sweet juice that flowed freely between her thighs. God, she wanted him so bad she ached.

“The things I'm gonna do to you...” Daring himself to let his fingers tangle in her hair, he breathed in her flowery vanilla scent. “Christ, you smell so good, baby.”

The side of her body was starting to ache from this position so she quickly moved to straddle him till there was little separating their naughtiest bits except their tiresome clothes.

He pressed his forehead to hers. The dusty reel churned and beams of light hovered above them as he captured her rosy mouth. Silent kisses sparked a fire, a burning grace, and she kissed him back with equal force. His hands moved nimbly downward, flipped up her skirt and caressing the smooth flesh at the back of her thighs. “You're absolutely stunning, you know that right?” He breathed before returning his attention to her panting mouth.

Buffy shook her head and blushed at the compliment but her cheeks were not the only part of her body reddening. Each pass of their lips made Buffy grow warmer and warmer till she felt like she was burning up. She thought of Lolita gyrating her hips, counting rotations of her hula hoop as Hubert stared in awe. Buffy lightly circled her own hips now, letting her round ass tell Mr. Pratt what was in store for him. Her pussy lips swelled at the touch of his fabric covered cock rubbing up against her. She felt bold, brazen; like the Buffy she remembered— sexy and full of life. He did this to me. Rocking her pelvis against him, she simulated something she always wanted to try. The lap dance, or the makeshift version of one. She cautiously took a peek behind her to make sure no one was watching and then began rocking slowly. With her fingers lacing behind his head, she ran her tongue across the edge of his cheekbone and mentally counted each swing of her hips. Sometime between rotations 5 and 10 she spun in the other direction. Just a little more, oh god... yes... She felt him straining in his pants and could make out the bulbous tip of his cock as it pressed against her, rubbing into her till her eyes rolled back. More, more... so close! 19? 23? She rolled her hips a little faster, a little slower. 16? 18? What's counting?

All the numbers blurred into nothing when he firmly grabbed her waist and held her still.

“Mmm...” He growled into her neck. “Keep that up, and I'm not going to last.”

Resisting his effort to restrain her, she began to move again. “Just make sure you... oh god, keep it up...”

He lightly spanked her bottom. “Hmm, is that a challenge?” He hadn’t hit her enough to make much noise, but the slight stinging sensation made her tremble.

When someone in the auditorium sneezed loudly, they were forced back to reality. A crowded room with gossipy teenagers wasn't the ideal place to get their freak on, but Buffy didn't think she could wait any longer. Every nerve in her body screamed for his touch. Was it even humanly possible to feel so much passion and desire?

“I want you so bad Mr. Pratt,” she murmured. Her senses were overloaded with the warmth of his touch and the smell of his skin.

“I want you too, Buffy.” He gently removed her hand, and placed it between them, dragging her trembling fingers over his hardness. “All for you, baby.” He quickly surveyed the room. “But I think this is neither the time nor place.” As he pulled away, his fingers brushed the inside of her thigh, slick with sweat and her heady moisture. He looked down at his hand, and stared at her in awe.

“Christ, you're soaked.”

She had no idea she was capable of being that wet. His hand was gleaming with her arousal, shiny as a gem, a wet beating heart. And with her skirt up and her panties wrecked, she was sure she’d deposited her molten liquid all over his slacks.

“Oh... no. Your pants,” she said apologetically.

“Don't apologize. You don't know how much that turns me on.” His jaw clenched as he possessed her mouth for one more searing kiss.

Buffy shut her eyes tightly and felt herself out of breath. “Mmm... I'm not dreaming am I?” Her eyelids fluttered open.

“No love, you're not dreaming,” he smirked. “You're fucking adorable.” He licked her nectar off his fingers. “Like peach you are, ripe and juicy.”

Her pussy pulsed at that word, triggering a flood of memories. The scent of the sea, the ache in her muscles, the sound of clinking sake cups and the feel of her little skirt as it pooled around her ankles. Oh God. She grabbed his hand and sucked the rest of her sticky fluid clean. “Yeah... the juiciest?”

His eyes narrowed, and Buffy felt full length of his cock elongate against her thigh.

“No more waiting,” he growled and dragged her towards the storage room.


Chapter End Notes:
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