Fourteenth. Crash
Oh and you come crash into me, yeah
Baby, and I come into you
Hike up your skirt a little more
And show the world to me
Hike up your skirt a little more
And show your world to me
In a boy's dream
In a boy's dream
Oh, I watch you there
Through the window
And I stare at you
You wear nothing, but you
Wear it so well
Tied up and twisted,
The way I'd like to be
For you, for me, come crash into me, baby
Come crash into me, yeah
Dave Matthews Band, Crash into me
One day she looks like Pollyanna,
the next day she looks like... I don't know... Lolita, maybe.
Showgirls (1995)
She was shaking. The orgasm that ripped through her short-circuited every nerve and muscle in her body. Buffy couldn’t breathe, could only gasp for air, forcing her lungs to operate when her body couldn’t respond to her brain’s commands. Trembles roared through her and she couldn’t gain control over herself. Tears seeped from behind her closed eyes and she tried huddling into a ball but her body wouldn’t – she couldn’t get any of her muscles to answer her brain.
Her teeth were chattering. It was the first sign Will noticed that something was wrong. Goosebumps had erupted over every surface and she was shaking like a leaf. “Buffy?” She shook harder. “Kitten, what’s wrong?”
“Cccold.” She chattered out, the shivers increasing.
Will looked down at her and hauled her off the couch and into his arms. “Shhh.”
Buffy buried her face in the crook of his neck, holding onto the arm that was circled around her. “Will? I’m cold. . . . hold me?”
“Oh sweetheart. I’ve got you.” He walked from the living room toward his bedroom, all thoughts of going further gone from his mind. Her reaction and the fear in her voice made him pause and think about what he was contemplating. “Will? What was that?”
His train of thought had been seriously derailed by her question. She didn’t know what had just happened – how the hell was he going to explain an orgasm? He brushed a kiss against her temple and felt another series of tremors roll through her.
Will kicked open his bedroom door, then sat down on the bed beside her. She whimpered in protest when he moved to take off his boots. “Relax, kitten.”
His back to her, Will started talking. “Just gonna sleep now, sweetheart, not doing anything else. What. . . Buffy, you. .. . that was an orgasm.”
“Oh.” She was quiet then she said, “oh!”
Will looked at her over his shoulder, catching sight of her highly embarrassed state. “I never. . um. . . not. . . that never happened before.”
His boots were off and Will rolled over, his arms pulling her close. “Yeah. I figured that. ‘S what happens when, well what should happen anyway, if the bloke takes care of his lady.”
“Oh.” Buffy felt like a fool. A stupid, innocent little fool. She buried her face in the pillow, afraid to look at him, afraid he would laugh at her inexperience.
Will felt her stiffen in his arms and wondered what was going through her head. Drawing a blanket up over them, he whispered into her ear, “what’s wrong kitten?”
“Nothing.” He wasn’t stupid. That nothing meant everything. He just didn’t know how to reach her, make her talk to him. He’d never done this before, been with a woman who didn’t know her own body’s responses. Her innocence was priceless, the last thing he’d expected, given her current state. A soft sniffle caught his attention, breaking into his thoughts. Was she crying?
“Buffy?” Will rolled her over to face him, but she wouldn’t lift her eyes from his chest. “Talk to me. Can’t help you if you shut me out love.”
She shook her head in denial that she needed to talk. A tiny hand came up to wipe away her tears and he just . . . his heart, which was already in danger of being lost, constricted a bit.
“Hey, what’s really wrong?”
Buffy pulled away a bit and Will reacted without thinking, pulling her hard against his chest. “Don’t. I want to hold you.”
Relaxing into him, Buffy’s entire body shuddered, then calmed. Breathing deeply, she lifted exhausted dark hazel eyes up to his and Will brushed a kiss against her forehead. “Won’t push you kitten, but I’m here. Not going anywhere.”
Her eyes drifted closed and she sighed softly dropping her head down against his chest. Curling into his arms further, Buffy breathed out his name once, slipping into sleep.
He woke up alone.
Buffy was gone. The only trace of her left was the scent of her on his pillows and the indentation of where her head had been. Will cursed as he stretched and eased his muscles into movement. He got up and made his way through the house, not expecting to find her. Her clothes were gone from the wash, although his tee-shirt was also nowhere to be found. A big part of him was angry with her for just leaving without saying a word and another part understanding that she was scared and probably very unsure about everything. Will debated with himself about picking up the phone and calling her, forcing her to face whatever it was between them. He knew damn well how he felt, knew it wasn’t just a fling for him, knew it wasn’t a game; that he wasn’t the one in danger of changing his mind.
Will stared down at his cell phone, finger poised over the send button, the internal debate raging. He wanted to hear her voice. Wanted to know that she was at least safe. To know that she wasn’t . . . . just to know that she was back in her house.
A deep sigh ripped from his throat and Will put the cell phone down. If she wanted to talk to him she would call. He still had papers and tests to grade and he was determined to keep busy, even if his heart wasn’t in it.
Xander had opened his door, bleary-eyed and more than half asleep, a pair of sweat pants hanging low on his hips. Buffy brushed past him, babbling words coming from her mouth, not allowing him time to question her appearance on his doorstep before eight in the morning nor giving him time to focus on anything. “Hey Xan, need the key to my house, got locked out and I need to get back in so I can do some cleaning and you know, other things.”
Barely awake, Xander ran a hand through his scraggly hair, his eyes trying to focus as he caught sight of Buffy watching him, her hands on her hips. “Keys?”
“Oh. Yeah. Um, hang on a minute.” He headed down to the basement, where his room was, Buffy trailing behind him, her eyes on his back, but her thoughts on the man she left.
Her insistent bladder had woken her up early, long before daybreak and she had taken the time to check her clothes and toss them into the dryer, well, everything except the bra. She’d crawled back into bed with Will, his arms settling around her like it was something they did every night, instead of for the first time ever. His hands had automatically circled her hip and breast, the fingers of his left hand brushing against the curls between her legs. Drifting in and out of sleep, Buffy’s mind had gone over the last two days of her life.
Spending a week with her father was usually a great time. Usually. Lately though, it had become more and more uncomfortable; the procession of her father’s bimbos and the constant questioning of her mother’s whereabouts grating on her nerves. This time, she had the added burden of horrible morning sickness that seemed to be lasting all day – or most of it – and the insane urge to cry – and then she had to find a way to tell her father. Which had backfired on her terribly. Buffy had spent two days trying to figure out a way to tell her father and she still bungled it. How come every time I have to say something really important, I mangle it completely? Its not like I’m dopey-girl and don’t know how to communicate.
Her sigh caught Xander’s attention and he squinted at her. “What’s up Buffster? Something wrong?”
His concern was touching, really, but not anything she could handle at the moment. She wanted to go home and curl up in her own bed and try not to think of Will’s hands on her. . . his tongue. . . A thousand butterflies took wing in her belly and Buffy nearly doubled over in response. The memories of his touch were overwhelming. Her body responded to the imaginings of her mind, the remembrance of his scent curling inside her, causing her breath to shorten and her cheeks to redden. Oh god. . . why am I here? I should be back at his place and . . .
Xander’s voice broke through her musings, bringing reality sharply back to her. “Buffy? You okay?”
“Huh?” Her head swung around to gaze at him, the blush deepening as he stared at her. “Um. Yeah. I’m good.”
Taking another deep breath, Buffy ducked her head, avoiding his intense scrutiny. “Just kind of tired and, you know, out of sorts I guess. My belly’s all flip-floppy.”
Which really wasn’t a lie. Her belly was all fluttery, just probably not the reasons Xander might be thinking. “Oh. Are you hungry?”
She laughed. “Um. Sometimes, yeah. Right now? Nope.”
“Oh. So why are you all belly rumbling then?” Xander was rummaging around in his dresser, looking for the spare set of keys to her house.
Buffy shook her head. “Xand? Did you, ya know, forget about me? Prego-girl here? Tummy rumblings are all of the normal.”
His head snapped up to look at her. “Yeah. I guess I did forget. Sorry.”
“No big. You got those keys?” Buffy perched on the edge of a chair, hands clenched in her lap. Now that she thought about it, those butterflies had taken up a different flight pattern and suddenly she was trying to fight the urge to throw up everything she’d ever eaten. She needed something cool to lay down with, because her entire face felt flush and she. . . jumping to her feet, Buffy made a motion to Xander when he held up the keys in his hand and ran past him to the bathroom.
The sound of retching reached through the thin walls of the bathroom and Xander grimaced in disgust. Man, being pregnant must suck big time.
By the time Monday morning rolled around, Will was beyond pissed. She had called once, leaving a message on his voice mail, just to let him know that she got the spare keys from Xander and was home safe and sound and that she was going to lie down and sleep. He hadn’t heard from her since then and his natural tendency to worry was taking over. He thought he’d scared her, moving way to fast but he hadn’t been able to control himself. What really irked him was that he knew what he was doing was wrong, at least in the eyes of some people. Will had a very clear idea of how the school board and the administration and, well, the legal system would react to his actions the other night, if somehow it was discovered.
The truth of the matter was, she was seventeen and his student. There was no getting around either of those facts, no way of dressing it up or changing it. She wouldn’t be eighteen until sometime in January, if he remembered her correctly; but that was only half the problem. The legal system would turn a blind eye if she was eighteen and not his student, but the administration and the school board would not. The news was full of teachers who had been accused of having relationships with students, and not one of those ended well for the teacher; most often the teacher got sacked and labeled a pedophile.
William Giles Stevenson was not a fool. He knew the way he felt about her was wrong, in their eyes. Knew he was walking a very fine line, one that could end up with him spending time in a correctional facility, not only losing his job but the additional real possibility of being deported for his actions. And yet, despite knowing that, despite being very aware of crossing a line with her – Will didn’t regret one instant of the other night – except one.
He was not happy about waking up alone. Hadn’t been happy about it at all.
He’d tried taking his frustrations out on the punching bag and free-weights he had in his basement; tried writing about his frustration in his poetry; and lastly, drowning it in drink Saturday night.
Nothing had worked.
The clawing need he had to see her, to hold her hadn’t dissipated at all in the days since Thanksgiving. If anything, it had been worse, since that small taste of heaven. Will wasn’t normally a selfish person but this time he was going to be. He wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers. He was going to brand himself into her soul until she had no choice but to want, need, crave him as much as he did her.
But he wasn’t going to be stupid about it either. He wasn’t going to lose his job or his freedom – he was going to make sure she understood that this wasn’t going away anytime soon. That he wasn’t going to run off at the first sign of difficulty. Nor was he going to stop wanting her.
He’d been a veritable grouch all morning, barking at students, growling at everyone he passed, ignoring his fellow teachers at lunch and just really not being himself at all. The papers he’d graded had been handed out, his comments bordering on the acerbic and he knew he shouldn’t be taking it out on everyone else, but he was angry.
It wasn’t until she walked into his classroom that the band around his chest eased and his breathing got steadier. She looked better than he’d seen her in weeks, her eyes clear and not red-rimmed, no hint or trace of tears, her skin glowing and a smile on her face. Will stood staring at her for long minutes, unable to think at all.
After leaving Xander’s Buffy had gone straight home and, then leaving a message on Will’s voice mail, she’d brushed her teeth and gotten out of her clothes, except for Will’s shirt and climbed into her bed. She woke up late Friday afternoon, eaten some spaghetti, watched television for a few hours, fallen asleep on the couch and done the same thing on Saturday and Sunday.
The rest had been exactly what she needed. She woke up Monday morning feeling better than she had in months and without any hint of morning sickness. Yeah, baby! Thanks for letting mommy sleep and eat and for not being bratty baby this morning.
It had taken her longer than usual to get ready for school and she had a sinking suspicion that she was dressing to impress. Finally deciding on a short denim skirt and a pretty red top, Buffy pinned up her hair and smiled at her reflection in the mirror. Look at mommy today, baby, she’s feeling pretty good. . . now just be nice to mommy and she’ll be happy for the rest of the day. Remember, happy mommy makes happy baby.
Avoiding the English classrooms all morning had proved harder than she thought. Her feet kept leading her in that direction, and twice she’d found herself in the hallway leading toward his classroom, before she checked herself and headed deliberately in the other direction. But now it was time. She’d eaten lunch with Willow and Xander, praying the whole time that her belly wouldn’t rebel and force her to skip English. Nope. Not today baby. Gotta go . . . even if the butterflies are fluttering hard.
He’d been on her mind all weekend. The way he moved. . . . the way he talked. His eyes, glittering like sapphires then darkening into deepest midnight, with their uncanny ability to look right through her. His voice. . . . oh god. . . his voice, rough and low, sending those butterflies into flight and his hands. . . . Buffy blushed thinking about what his hands and his mouth had done. She wiggled in her seat, trying to hide her thoughts from her friends.
Too soon, lunch was over and it was time to head to his class. Those butterflies were taking up permanent residence in her belly, right next to the baby, and Buffy wasn’t sure which one of them was causing the feelings that were coursing through her, but she closed her eyes and prayed for five minutes of calm and the ability to walk into his classroom nonchalantly.
He was standing in the back of the classroom, watching her fellow students wander in, a silent sentinel in the back. She couldn’t look at him to see what he was wearing or his expression, because if she did, Buffy knew she was going to end up throwing herself at him. She knew the moment he saw her, felt his body react to her presence and hers reacted just as strongly. Glancing up at him from beneath lowered eyelids, Buffy blushed and smiled. Her breath caught in her throat and she just stared at him for long minutes.
Oh god. . . he. . . gah.
He raised his lip in a slight smile, his eyes twinkling as they ran over her form, making sure she was okay. Her smile got wider and he tilted his head in acknowledgment, then called the class to order.
The forty-five minutes passed by too quickly, leaving Buffy with absolutely no idea what they’d discussed and her brain filled with images of him and the timbre of his voice echoing in her head.
“Miss Summers?” She picked up her head at the sound of her name, her eyes fixed on his. “Please see me after classes.”
A mere nod of her head was his answer, but at the reassuring looks everyone else gave her, she figured it wasn’t obvious what had been on his mind. “Okay.”
The bell rang, signaling the end of his class and Will watched her go, his eyes following her out the door. Harmony Kendall was in his face in the next instant, pushing her way toward him to question the failing grade he’d given her, erasing all further thought of chasing after Buffy from his head.
Two classes to go and then he could see her. That was all he had to wait. Just an hour and a half.
She floated out of his class, her thoughts filled with images of him and how he’d come to her rescue, how he’d taken care of her and all those other things he’d done. What she never expected . . . . his mouth . . . . Buffy blushed every time she thought about it.
Willow was chattering away, going on about something and Buffy was only half listening to her, focusing instead on those damn butterflies. She was thinking about naming them, because, hey, they’re living here inside me just like baby. Buffy brushed a hand over her belly, a soft smile on her features. Willow, mistaking the expression on her face and thinking that Buffy had been listening to her called her on it. “Buffy? Did you hear what I said?”
“Huh? What?”
“Come back down to earth.” Willow gave her a little laugh. “Did you hear me? The English Lit students are all going Los Angeles to see a play.”
That finally caught her attention. “Really? When? Which one? Who’s going?”
Giggles erupted from Willow’s mouth as she caught a glimpse of Buffy’s face. “Um. Sometime later this month, the fifteenth, I think. Not sure what show, but you could ask Mr. Stevenson when you go see him.”
“Sure. I can do that.” Buffy assured her best friend, all the while thinking, yeah, I can . . . if I can remember to think around him.
Classes were over ten minutes ago. Five minutes ago, Sara Logan had stopped in and asked him if he wanted to come out for drinks on Friday, and then borrowed his English Lit syllabus. And now he was pacing around his room, his hands in his pockets, trying his best not to stare at the clock on the wall. This was crazy, arranging to meet her on school grounds, but Will was afraid she would just avoid him once they were on the outside. She would be smart if she did reject his advances, stopped him cold in his tracks and made herself stay away. He hoped otherwise, hoped that she was just as helpless in all this as he was, unable to stem the tide of want and need surging through their bodies.
Twelve minutes. Will stared up at the clock, his eyes tracking the movement of the second hand around the dial. She wasn’t coming. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his head back to look up at the ceiling. He slowly closed his eyes, willing away the anger and tears, trying to find a small, tiny bit of acceptance; believing that she was going to the be sensible one in this relationship and call a halt to everything.
His eyes fluttered closed, the dark lashes looking impossibly long and dark against his pale skin. The expression on his face was anything but peaceful or resigned. He was fighting the urge to go find her, the only evidence of his internal battle in the set of his shoulders and the balled fists at his side. Will was so lost to the internal fight he didn’t hear the door opening nor the soft tread of her feet.
She took two steps into the room, not seeing him at first, then quickly swept her gaze through the quiet room. He was standing partially in shadow, his head thrown back and eyes closed, muscles tense and drawn. Buffy stared at him, her eyes noting the strong lines of his profile, the deceptive slightness of his form belying the strength of his will and his muscles. A soft smile graced her features and all she wanted to do was move closer to him, bask in his warmth, watch his eyes twinkle. Her breathing accelerated and she could feel her body begin to respond to his nearness.
Two steps closer and she could almost touch him. Wanted to reach across the distance and touch him. But fear . . . did he want her? She wanted him so much that her breath hitched and an almost sob emerged from her throat.
His mind was filled with images of her golden silky skin against the backdrop of his black leather couch. Will sent a short prayer to the heavens, hoping that some deity would have pity on him and let her change her mind and show up. A noise broke through his pleadings and Will straightened, turning toward the source of the sound.
There she is. . . my angel. Will’s smile was genuine, finding the object of his affection standing in front of him, watching him. Neither one of them spoke, words suddenly not enough to convey the depths of what they were feeling. Buffy’s hazel eyes were a bright green with glittering lights and Will was lost in her.
He circled around her, moving through the rows of desks to the door, closing and locking it. Will leaned his shoulder against the door, his eyes back on her, a slight leer on his lips. “Buffy.”
It was just her name. Something she heard every day, something so mundane that it shouldn’t hit her right in her gut. But it did. His voice. . . . she got the feeling that his voice would always have this effect on her, making her knees weak and her belly flutter. . . oh. There they were again. Those crazy butterflies.
“Hey.” Her smile answered his and his breath was knocked from him. She’s bloody beautiful.
Silence fell between them, neither one of them able to breach the gap. There was no awkwardness, no need to fill the silence with useless babble. His arms folded across his chest, his eyes steady on her, but the tension was gone, blasted away in the face of her presence.
When she finally spoke, it was like a continuation of a conversation they’d been having all along, like they hadn’t been apart for the better part of four days, like they’d only just parted a short time ago. “I let the dogs out before I left.”
His voice rumbled in the air, and he took a step closer to her, “yeah, I let them back in.”
And then his arms were around her, his scent engulfing her, his words going right through her, warming her from within. “Missed you when I woke up. Wanted you there.”
“I. . . “ His finger reached out to brush against her lips, silencing her. “I understand kitten. Too much. . . . yeah?”
Buffy closed the gap between them, nuzzling into his chest. “I guess. But I missed you all weekend.” Muffled against his chest, she still sounded like a very little girl. Her arms circled his waist, her fingers looping into his belt, holding him close.
“Missed you too.” He fell silent again, listening to the thrum of her heart against his, the soft inhalations of their breaths, content to just hold her.
His heart was thumping steadily under her ear and Buffy inhaled deeply, drawing his scent down into her depths. She didn’t want to move, wanted to stay safe like this for a very long time. His hand swept across her back, then threaded into her hair, loosening the clips holding it up. He leaned down as she looked up at him and instead of kissing her forehead, Will brushed his lips across hers, his tongue seeking entrance. Buffy sighed, opening her mouth to him, letting him in.
Soft, sweet, she tasted of strawberries and smelled of traces of vanilla. Will cupped her head in his hand, strands of golden silk wrapping around his fingers. Buffy slipped her arms up around his shoulders, standing on her toes, her entire body pressed up flush against his. Will’s hand snuck down, cupping her butt beneath the short skirt, feeling her bare skin under his rough fingers. He broke off their kiss, breathing heavily. “Kitten?”
A shy grin crossed her features and Buffy batted her eyelashes at him. “I. . . um. . . “
Bright red spots bloomed on her cheeks and she couldn’t say the words out loud. His look of utter surprise was quickly swallowed by a knowing leer and his tongue slowly swept across his teeth, and Buffy’s grip on his shoulder tightened. He growled into her ear, “Naughty little kitten.” Then his teeth nipped at the soft spot on her neck. “Open up for me little girl.”
She mewled a soft little noise into his neck that went right through him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, while his tongue licked a path from her ear down her neck, nibbling as he went. “God, sweetheart, you taste so good.”
‘Will? Buffy pulled away from him, her eyes wide and shy gazing down into his intent features.
“Yeah?” His fingers trailed across her hip, delving into the curls that covered her sex. “Oh god, baby. . . . “
Their lips met again, mouths joined, tongues swirling together. Harsh panting breaths broke across her cheek and Buffy’s heart was thundering in her chest. Will broke away from her mouth, his eyes intent on the skin his touch was revealing. “Oh angel, the way you feel . . . . like silk under my hands. Warm living. . . oh god. . . “
He dropped to his knees, both hands under the soft denim, his mouth nuzzling over her covered mound. “Show me. . . c’mon . . . “
Sliding his hands down her legs, Will forced her legs apart, but went no further, just let his thumbs rub gentle circles at the spot just over both knees. His eyes lifted to see Buffy’s face and he watched, transfixed as her tongue brushed over her lips and shy wonder crept into her eyes. Low and tempting, his voice rumbled in the air between them and she forgot everything but him. “C’mon little girl, show me. . . please.”
She could no more resist his sexy plea than she could stop breathing and emboldened by his request, Buffy dropped her hands from his shoulders and toyed with the hem of her skirt. “You want me to . . . “ she asked at once afraid and aroused by his desire.
“Oh yeah, want. . . need. . . c’mon kitten, show me. . . “ His chest was heaving now, anticipation whetting his appetite for her into the stratosphere.
Her feet moved to just outside his bent knees, her hips thrust forward just enough to tease. Inch by slow inch, Buffy moved the soft denim material up her thighs, watching his reaction. Will was dying by those inches, thumbs pressing harder into her flesh, his mouth watering, aching to taste her. He couldn’t stop the words tumbling from his mouth, egging her on in his need. “That’s it. . . oh god. . . please, baby. . . show me. . . c’mon.”
The shadow between her thighs beckoned him, and the second she revealed it to his hungry gaze, Will was on her. Groaning into her, he couldn’t, didn’t want to fight. The first taste of her drowned him and he knew he was lost for good. His tongue lapped at her, his hands holding her tight against his face.
Yeah, I know, I'm evil for leaving you all there. . . but hey, what's a little UST between friends?. . . . just imagine what he's doing. . . *clears throat* Anyway. So please, lemme know what you thought about this one. Coz it really does matter to me what you think.