Thirteenth. Sugar taste
You sugar taste
Sweetness doesn't often touch my face
Stay if you please
You may not be here when I leave
Alice in Chains
Fly to the rescue, Pan.
I'll shoot you . . right through your noble intentions.
Captain Hook, Peter Pan (2003)
I’m Luke Skywalker, I’m here to rescue you.
Star Wars, Episode IV
She fell asleep ten minutes into the drive.
He’d been watching her, out of the corner of his eye, making a mental wager with himself over how long it would be. Will knew she was exhausted, emotionally wrought and spent from a night and most of a day on her own, so it was just a matter of time before she gave into the exhaustion and let sleep claim her.
Will smiled as she settled in, letting her head rest between the window and the seat. Trust. That’s what that is. She trusted me to come get her an’ now she’s safe she can sleep.
There was the start of traffic around Los Angeles and he left off his contemplation of Buffy and concentrated instead on the road.
Just past the halfway point between Los Angeles and Sunnydale, Will decided to pull over and get something to eat. He needed to get gas for the car anyway and he realized that he was hungry.
The minute he pulled into the truck stop, Buffy stretched and shifted, slowly coming awake. Smiling shyly at him, she asked “how close are we?”
“Jus’ about halfway.” He paused for a moment, then angled the car toward the parking area. “Hungry?”
“Yeah. A little.” She was a lot hungry but she wouldn’t dream of admitting that to him. “Lemme pay for gas or something.”
“No.” His tone brooked no argument, but she tried anyway.
“No? How about half?” She got out of the car, tossing the words over her shoulder as she made her way toward the building.
Will caught up with her, turning her to face him. “No. My choice, not takin’ your money.”
“Fine.” She snapped unintentionally at him, then relented. She hadn’t meant it to sound so . . mean and final, so she softened her tones a bit, “yeah. Sorry. Didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
“Right then. D’you fancy chicken or somethin’ else?” Buffy looked at the sparsely populated fast food restaurants and shrugged. “Dunno. Meet you back here in ten minutes, okay?”
When she got back from the bathroom, Will wasn’t anywhere to be found. She looked around, slightly panicked, then spied his blond head standing at one of the counters, obviously reading what passed for a menu.
“Will?” He whirled around, his bright smile blinding her.
“Hey. All right then?” He was watching her closely, gauging how tired she looked. “Sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just really tired.” Buffy shrugged, her eyes avoiding his. She swayed a bit and he was at her side in seconds.
“C’mon kitten, sit down before you fall.” He guided her over to one of the tables. “You need to eat. Fancy anything in particular?”
Buffy thought about it for a moment. “Not really. What are you thinking of getting?”
Will shook his head. “Think I might get a couple of burgers.” Buffy’s eyes lit up and he smiled. “Burgers it is.”
She managed to stay awake the rest of the trip back to Sunnydale, but neither one of them was inclined to engage in idle chatter, at least then.
He pulled up in front of her house and was reluctant to let her go. No one was home, she’d be all by herself and he didn’t think it was a good thing. But he couldn’t tell her that. He had no right to say anything.
Buffy sat there, frozen in shock. Oh god. . how do I? I don’t have keys. . . and Willow’s not home until Saturday and Xander’s got an extra set but I didn’t see anyone home when we passed his house and . . . breathe Buffy, breathe.
For the first time since he’d known her, Buffy just sat still, fear keeping her silent. Will was beginning to get really worried when she finally moved, but when a hysterical giggle escaped from her mouth, he got very worried.
“I don’t have keys. I left them at my dad’s.” She was afraid to look at him. “Willow and Xander have spare sets, but . . . neither of them are gonna be home until tomorrow.”
Will stared at her profile for a second, making a quick decision. He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb, without saying a word. He was afraid she would object and he didn’t want to have to argue his position with her, not while he was driving and not while he knew, that while this was an incredibly stupid and potentially dangerous decision, nevertheless it was an inevitable one. He wanted her to stay with him. Hell, he wanted her however he could get her but the facts were . . . she was only seventeen. And his student. And if they were caught. . . . Will refused to think about it.
The dogs were barking when he opened the door, ushering Buffy inside his home. Well, Kennedy was barking and Clem was just hanging back waiting for him to acknowledge the dog’s presence.
Buffy stepped into the hallway, then followed Will as he walked directly into his kitchen. “All right ya beasties. I’ll feed ya now.”
The dogs quieted after he filled their bowls, but every time Buffy moved the smaller dog growled at her. Will yelled at the dog, then as he was getting a beer from the fridge, he spoke. “You can sleep in my room, I’ll take the couch. You wanna shower?”
Buffy hesitated, looking anywhere but at him. “The couch is fine for me and I don’t have anything to wear, but I’d love a shower.”
“I’ll get you a tee shirt an’ some shorts. We’ll throw your stuff in the wash, be fine for the morning.”
“Yeah, okay.” She hesitated a moment longer, looking around at her surroundings. His kitchen was really nice, dark green painted walls with sugar brown cabinets and crisp white appliances. Not exactly what she expected, not at all. . . the room was warm and inviting. Watching her look around, Will was struck by how at home she looked or rather, how much he wanted her to be at home. She looked around closer, then realized he was looking at her. A blush bloomed across her features and Buffy ducked her heard, hiding from his gaze.
“So where’s the bathroom. . and um, clothes?”
A grin stole across his features. She’s so bloody adorable. “Right, up the stairs and second door on the right.” He finished the beer and motioned her toward the stairs. “I’ll get the stuff.”
She waited at the bathroom door while he continued down the hallway. Buffy leaned against the wall, her eyes crossing with fatigue. It had been about this time last night when she and her father had started fighting.
Everything was a jumble after that – the screaming, the running, the fear – and she barely had anything to eat and she was tired and hungry again. And she felt really grungy and dirty.
Will emerged from his bedroom to find her standing against the wall, nearly asleep on her feet. Dark circles stood out under her equally dark lashes and he could see the fatigue she tried to hide so much when she was awake. Will didn’t want to disturb her at all, but he knew she wanted to get clean. Not that she’d said so, but he knew it was bothering her.
Unable to resist, Will drew closer, his eyes on her, drinking in her presence. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was. . . ethereal at times, and yet he’d seen her earthy and teasing, playful. His finger ran down her face, barely touching, though he felt the contact down to his toes.
Even wearing day old clothes and tired beyond measure, pregnant with someone else’s child, she was beautiful. And he wanted her.
Will leaned closer, his shoulder against the wall beside her, just watching her sleep. His hand cupped around her cheek and she curled into his touch. Buffy responded to his warmth, murmuring softly into his hand.
Her head fell against his chest and Will settled her in closer. Buffy’s eyes opened and she looked up at him sleepily. Nuzzling into his chest, she breathed in his scent. “Smell nice. Really.”
He leaned closer to her, wanting to kiss her senseless. “You too kitten.”
“Nahuh.” Buffy made a face. “No.” And then the strangest look came over her face and she realized what she was doing. She squealed a little. “No. Ew. I smell. . and not good.”
Will sniffed her playfully, wrinkling his nose as he teased her. “You do smell kind of. . . funny, kitten.” Buffy’s face fell a bit and he leaned in, his mouth against her ear. “Smell like something I want.”
Hazel green eyes looked up into his blue ones, searching for the truth of his words. What she found wasn’t what she expected. Want was blazing in his bluer than blue eyes, need for her swimming in those depths, humbling her.
Fear rose up in her belly and she couldn’t face him. What he wanted from her she wasn’t sure she was ready to give – couldn’t give, not yet. And because she was afraid, Buffy ran. Blushing furiously, she moved around him and slid into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
She was shaking. The intensity of his gaze scared her and set butterflies fluttering in her belly. Washing herself she was lost in her thoughts about what would happen when she emerged from the water. Maybe he wouldn’t be waiting for her. . . not sure I don’t want him to be there, god he just looks at me so . . . and I melt. All I wanna do is let him hold me.
What do you think baby? Does he like us? I want him to like us. I want him to love us. . . Buffy ducked her head under the steaming water, letting her fears wash down the drain with the soap.
Just gonna see where this . . . I’m not going to . . . Stepping out of the shower, Buffy dried off, holding up his shirt to her face, inhaling deeply. Oh. . this smells like him. I’m gonna smell him all around me.
She slipped the tee shirt on, then looked at the shorts he’d given her. Holding them up, she laughed. There was no way she could wear them, they weren’t going to stay up around her waist. Slipping them on anyway, Buffy bunched them up in one hand and left the bathroom, her dirty clothes balled up in her other hand.
Will stood outside the bathroom listening to the sound of the shower, imagining her under the water. Soft skin, soapy and slick sleek skin, wet. . . Will shook the images from his head.
He couldn’t stand here listening to the water, imaging her. . . wanting to join her. Will moved away from the wall, making his way through the house to his living room.
Moving to the other room didn’t help all that much, the images of her in his shower, running water washing over her naked body . . . Will tried forcing thoughts of her from his mind, pushing the images away.
He was doing his best, but all he could really think of was her, even as he tried focusing on the movie.
Nearly an hour later, Will was beginning to worry that perhaps she’d slipped out and run away when the water finally shut off. Another ten minutes went by before he heard the click of the bathroom door.
“Will?” Buffy’s voice sounded in the hallway and rooms, as she slowly made her way through the house.
What would you give mate, to have this be real? To have her here all the time? “In here.”
She wandered into his living room, her eyes wide at the decor. One wall was swallowed up completely by a television and stereo system, one of the other walls was covered in books. The room was decidedly masculine, dark walls and soft black leather couches, which was only softened by the window seat with bright jewel-toned cushions and pillows. Buffy looked around, awed at how comfortable the room felt. “Wow.”
He looked at her noting a slight smile on her features. “This is such a great room. All of them. . . even the bathroom.”
Her voice trailed off as he got to his feet. “Glad you like it.” And he was.
“Did you do this?” She was curious, wondering who had picked out all the colors and done the decorating.
He looked sheepish for a moment. “Did most of it myself, had help from an old friend.” Will looked around, wondering how much input Drusilla had really had. “She did help a bit.”
Buffy’s face fell. “Oh.”
Will caught her expression and the sad tone and he felt compelled to explain. “Drusilla, we’ve been friends f’rever and we once tried the dating thing but, ah, she was really in love with someone else. They’re married. Got two little girls.”
She was adorable when she blushed, which was what she was doing now. “Oh. . . that’s nice.”
“Yeah.” Will watched her fidget again, then realized she had her dirty clothes bunched up in a ball. “Hand ‘em over pet. I’ll get them in the wash.” Taking them from her, Will motioned toward the television. “Change it if you like, an’ there’s stuff to pick at.”
Stuff? Buffy eyed the assortment of things he’d laid out on the coffee table and fought a giggle. Hot wings, chips, pretzels, some dip, water, cheese – Buffy wondered if he was expecting a party because there was way more food here than she could eat.
Grabbing the remote, she flipped through the channels and nibbled on some cheese while she waited for him to come back.
He was standing in front of his washing machine, staring down at the clothes in his hands, when it struck him for the first time that she was here, in his house, wearing his clothes. What that really meant. If anyone were to find out, there would be hell to pay – and not just because she was pregnant. There’d be all sorts of inquiries into exactly who the father was, despite the two of them knowing the truth of the matter and he’d more than likely lose his job over this. If he took a moment to think with his head, he’d get her things washed and send her to a hotel, leave her there for the night and wash his hands of the whole situation.
And yet he couldn’t find that ruthless spot within him; couldn’t break the waif that was upstairs in his living room, scared and alone and skittish. Everyone else had turned their backs on her, letting her sink without any help of rescue. Not that he believed she was on a slippery slide into eternal darkness, but she could falter without any one else on her side. That vision of her father’s? Where she would end up on the streets or on welfare . . . that was a real possibility, if everyone kept abandoning her. Her mother appeared on the surface to be supportive, but Will was beginning to think that might just be mere lip-service and not real.
He had no proof otherwise, just his own gut feelings on the situation between mother and daughter. Buffy hadn’t breathed a word until tonight that her father was even still in the picture. And really, with a wanker like that for a father, why the hell would she mention him?
In the month or so since he’d learned of her pregnancy, her mother had been out of town at least twice, that he knew of. He had no idea how long her trips were, or where she was, but from the little Buffy spoke about it, this was a fairly common occurrence. So, how in good conscience could he just drop her off at a hotel? Will knew he couldn’t, even if he wasn’t interested in the girl. It just wasn’t in him to not take care of someone. Hell, it was the reason he’d taken the rotten dog in the first place. Kennedy was his mother’s – keeping her company while he was gone, and he’d been saddled with the bitch since his mother had died. Even bringing the dog to the States hadn’t. . . Will shook his head. The dog was not the problem.
The problem, as he figured it, was the girl sitting on his couch. The problem was what everyone around her was doing or not doing as the case may be. The problem was the way he felt about her.
Will looked down at the clothes in his hands and realized he’d been rubbing his fingers all over the lacy edges of her bra. Oh yeah, you’ve got it bad, you git. Holdin’ her dainties while you’re thinkin’ about her. Tha’s just brilliant. Wanker. Throwing the clothes in the water, his ring finger snagged on a leg of her jeans, getting caught in the belt loop, and he stopped moving, his mind focused on her. Buffy was. . . She didn’t deserve any of this; none of it, from Riley’s treatment, to his parents saying those things to her, her parents. . . He’d heard also that she had been removed from the cheerleading squad, which had to hurt a little.
Panties. He had her panties in his hands. And she was upstairs, wearing his clothes, nothing between his things and her skin. Will groaned, looking down at the wisp of material in his hands. It was cotton candy pink with lace around the edges. His hard-on, which had been controllable just minutes ago, swelled and rose up to press against the cold metal of his zipper. He should put them in the wash. He should. He shouldn’t be holding them up to his face and inhaling her scent . . . and imaging all sorts of other things.
Forcing his hand down Will dropped the scanty material into the wash, watching the soap and water saturate it, dragging it down into the depths.
There was no way in hell he could go back up those stairs and face her, not now, not unless he did some really . . . . he could just hide in the bathroom and take care of it there. . . but he was here, and. . . Will hadn’t been this bad in a very long time. Fuck it. Popping the button on his jeans, he reached in and grasped his hard-on, pumping slowly. His eyes closed and he imagined her sitting on top of the washing machine, clad in nothing but those pretty pink panties. . . . or in nothing but his tee shirt, or in nothing at all. His breathing was harsh in the cool air of the basement, the churning of the wash and the clean scent of water and soap redolent in the air. . . and he was still hard. His hand curled around his erection, pulling and pumping and Will wished that it was her hand, warm and tight around him.
Behind his eyes, Buffy was sitting on the washer, clad in his tee-shirt and those panties, legs spread, lips parted. . . . long golden hair. He imagined her lifting the shirt up, exposing the panties and a pert little breast to his gaze, his hands sliding up her legs. Pre-cum dripped from his slit, and Will used his thumb to smooth it around his hard length, pretending all the while it was her hand touching him. Yeah, baby, c’mon, she slid the candy pink panties down her legs, spreading herself wide for him, her fingers lightly brushing her folds. . . that’s it baby girl, show me. . . show me everything. . . His hips jerked as his hand sped up, his brain blank save for the thought of her and the movement upon his cock.
His balls tightened, his breathing hitched and Will grabbed the first thing he could reach to soak up his spendings. Imaginary Buffy scooted closer to him, her pussy open and exposed to his intense gaze, her fingers thrusting in and out in time to the pumping of his hand. Soft skin brushed against his cheeks, her scent strong, making his mouth water, his tongue aching to taste her. Will’s head dropped down as he spurted into the cloth, his eyes barely open. A low groan burst from his throat when he didn’t recognize the shirt in his . . He didn’t own anything in that particular shade of pink. . . oh god. It was hers. He’d cum all over her shirt. . . a quavering chuckle escaped from his mouth and Will shook his head in denial of what he’d just done.
An’ jus’ how old are you, mate? Seventeen? Sure as fuck aren’t twenty-eight years old now. . . git. His sigh was deep, his thoughts scattered. His hands were shaking. In for a penny. . . glancing down at the soft pink material surrounding his spent cock, Will growled in self-disgust. Zero fuckin’ control mate. . . not good at all. He threw the soiled shirt into the wash anyway, hoping that the soap and water would wash away the evidence of his folly.
Still mentally chastising himself over his actions, Will tucked himself back in, washed his hands in the sink and slowly made his way back upstairs to the living room. If there was a god, and he had any mercy in him, Buffy would be asleep on the couch; and he could just carry her into his room and walk away. Or, if that wasn’t an option, that she was wide awake and waiting for him, head over heels in love with him and old enough so that it wouldn’t matter. Yeahuh. Tha’ would be a bloody miracle.
He decided, as he stopped in the doorway to watch her, that god was a sick bastard who took delight in torturing him. Buffy was curled up on his couch, legs tucked up beneath her, head resting on one arm, eyes half closed with fatigue. She was gorgeous, everything he wanted all wrapped up in one tiny package, everything he was beginning to suspect he needed.
She sensed his presence and turned to look at him over the back of the couch. A shy smile crept over her face, lighting her up from within. He really was starting to not care about the differences, about what could possibly keep them apart. He wanted her. Needed her. Suspected that he loved her.
“Hey.” He looked . . . Buffy didn’t know how to describe how he looked; he was quite possibly the best looking man she’d ever seen, hot enough to be a movie star. He could be a model, with cheekbones and eyes like those, and lips that always looked kissable. She remembered the first time she’d ever seen him and the reactions of every single other girl in the school. The number of whisperings and crushes this man engendered was staggering. Even some of the teachers had been googly-eyed over him. And he just went about his business as if he didn’t know what kind of effect he had on women of all ages.
The fact that he was staring at her, his eyes heavy-lidded and a lazy grim across those oh-so-kissable lips had her tingling from head to toe. He’s looking at me like he . . wants me. Oh god. . . the drop-dead sexiest guy I’ve ever seen is looking at me. . .
Will wondered what she was thinking as she looked at him, her eyes riveted on his lips. A slow smile widened across her mobile mouth and he wondered if he could someday convince her to wear fire-engine red lipstick and . . those pink panties . . . and heels. . . and Will forced his mind away from that image, his mind yelling at his dick. Knock it off now, mate.
Trying to come up with something else to think about, Will focused on the food. “Did you eat again?”
“Yeah. I picked.” Buffy shifted her gaze to the table and did a double take. All the cheese was gone and half the pretzels. “Um. I guess I was still sort hungry.”
Will strolled around the couch and fought a chuckle. “Guess so. Want more?”
“Nah. I’m good. Wanna watch a movie?”
Obviously she’d caught a second wind. He couldn’t push her off, didn’t want too. Buffy shifted on the couch, jumping when Kennedy growled at her, trying to get more comfortable.
“Oi. Knock it off you ungrateful bitch.” Will tossed a pillow at the twelve year old grouch, ignoring Buffy’s hiss of disapproval. He looked at her, saying, “dog’s a pain in the arse, doesn’t like anyone. ‘S not you its her.”
“Still shouldn’t be mean to her.” She whapped him gently on the arm, then squealed a little when he hauled her up on her knees holding her against him. They were practically nose to nose when he mock growled at her, grumbling a bit, “don’t mess with me little girl, ‘m bigger an’ badder than you are.”
She giggled and mock shivered. “Ohhh I’m sooo scared of the big bad . . . wolf.”
“Careful little girl, the big bad’ll eat you all up.”
Buffy looked up at him with wide eyes, her breathing erratic and her heart hammering away in her chest. His words had struck a different chord, no longer just playful and teasing and she felt his hands on her arms, his touch burning into her skin.
Will was staring at her mouth, his words echoing in his head, replaying over and over in a loop. He had to kiss her – needed to kiss her. Dipping his head down, Will nibbled on her full lower lip, scoring it with his teeth, then soothing with his tongue. Buffy’s eyes drifted closed and her lips parted, inviting him in.
At the first touch of her tongue against his, whatever internal battle his conscience may have been waging was lost. He surrendered at the first sign of engagement. His hands loosened from around her arms, circling around her. One hand fisted in her hair, holding her close and the other drifted down to her hip.
Buffy mewled into his mouth, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers diving into the soft curls at his nape. The too big shorts slid down her legs, pooling around her knees. She was lost in sensation, reeling from his touch.
His fingers flexed around her hip, bunching up the fabric even as his lips broke away from hers. “Sweet. . . kitten. . . “
His voice went straight through her, making her knees quiver and her breathing hitch. Buffy’s thumb ran over a thumping vein in his neck and Will fought his body’s reaction. Leaning down to kiss her again, Will dragged the shirt up as he cupped her breast, rubbing his thumb over her distended nipple. “Need you.”
He moved closer, his hand abandoning her breast to run down her torso and over her bare hip. Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined it, her lips and mouth exactly as he’d hoped. His hand stroked over her, his thumb running over her hipbone, his fingers splayed over the curve of her ass.
Buffy trembled in his arms, his touch sending tendrils of want through her, pooling inside her womb. She needed him to touch her, was craving it. Nothing had ever felt like this before – nothing. His lips broke away from hers and she mewled a breathy protest until his mouth licked a path down her face toward a sensitive spot just below her ear.
Will rocked his erection against her, only his jeans separating them as he nibbled on her neck. Her pants and whimpers in his ear were more than he needed to push him over the edge.
“Will . . . Please . . oh god, please. . . touch me.” He couldn’t resist. The sound of his name. . .
“Open up for me kitten . . . “ he leaned back, looking at her, bared to his sight, his shirt bunched up over her waist, his hand curved around her hip, exposing the dark patch of curls between her legs. His other hand swooped down, lifting the cotton material further, and Will gently pushed her back against the couch.
Buffy looked up at him, shivering at the hunger in his eyes. She was bared to his intense gaze, her shoulders against the back of the couch, her knees trapped in the loose shorts.
Will’s left hand slowly stroked her, sweeping around and over her hip, his thumb and fingers trailing through the dark gold curls covering her pussy.
“Oh kitten you are fuckin’ gorgeous.” He breathed out, struggling for control. His fingers parted her folds, opening her up to his gaze. Threading through her curls, Will found her clit, watching her reaction as he rolled it between his fingers. Her hips bucked up and Buffy spread her knees wider, allowing him entry.
His name shrieked from her, harsh panting breaths interspersed with breathy whimpers.
“Will. . . oh god. . . Will.”
He slid two fingers into her wetness and his mouth watered, his legs finally gave out and Will gave into his desire. Rotating his fingers, Will thrust into her, searching for the spot as his mouth descended. Just before he latched onto her clit, Will chuckled and whispered “oh yeah, little girl, big bad wolf’s gonna eat you up.”
Buffy’s hips bucked again, her shriek of surprise echoing in the living room. All thought fled, everything was gone and there was nothing left but the feel of his mouth on her, his fingers pumping in and out.
She was shaking, her entire body quivering when his mouth enclosed her and there was nothing but pleasure rolling through her.
Buffy cried, gasped and whimpered his name, tears seeping from closed eyes when his fingers rubbed against something inside her and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel. Her eyes rolled back in her head and every nerve in her body fired at once.
Okay, y'all know the drill by now. Please, leave a review and let me know what you think of this one, coz, I kind of liked this chapter.