Twenty-fifth. Yielding to temptation.
The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
I generally avoid temptation... unless I can't resist it.
Mae West, My Little Chickadee, 1940
Temptation rarely comes in working hours.
It is in their leisure time that men are made or marred.
W. N. Taylor
Temptation is a woman's weapon
and man's excuse.
H. L. Mencken
The week passed remarkably smoothly, and quickly, once they’d fallen into a routine. He was up early, locking Kennedy outside before kissing Buffy goodbye. School dragged most days, but Will figured since he was living for the moments outside, it made perfect sense in a surreal way.
Time crawled to a stop while they were apart, only to race when they were together.
There were some not so pleasant moments, the nights when she woke crying, or when she got moody and uncommunicative, almost sulking. But Will believed much of that was not intentionally directed at him, or caused by him.
Buffy had finally broken down, after calling Willow, spending most of Sunday either crying or sleeping. Uncertain at the time of the reasons, he’d waited until Buffy haltingly explained the cause of her upset. It was, as always, her parents. Her conversation with Willow had centered mainly around the increasingly belligerent phone calls from Joyce Summers.
And yet, not once in those two weeks when no one knew where she was, did Joyce file a missing persons report, stubbornly clinging to the belief Buffy was just getting a bit of revenge for their fight that morning. Which broke Buffy’s heart and just infuriated him. He was glad too, Buffy had waited until after her birthday to call Willow, the very last thing she needed was dealing with all that. Instead, they’d driven down to San Diego, which was closer than Los Angeles, for the day and actually spent the day doing coupley things. Out in the open. It was exactly what they both needed.
He supposed it was a good thing then, that they’d gone shopping before the phone call, because he didn’t think she would’ve been up for the challenge. He still had no idea what she’d bought, aside from a couple of pairs of jeans and a bigger bra. And he only knew about that because she was so proud of the size she’d bragged about it. And then modeled it for him.
That had been Monday night.
Tuesday she’d cooked.
Wednesday had been ice cream.
Tonight she was hiding in the bedroom, packing. Their flight was leaving tomorrow, Friday, at five-forty, arriving in Vegas roughly an hour and a half later . . . and she was packing.
Will was attempting to mark his eleventh graders’ midterms, anxious to go see what she was doing, but every time he got close to their bedroom door she yelled at him to go away.
If it wasn’t so adorable, he’d be sorely aggravated. As it was her bossiness had him hard as nails. Will smirked, all at once thankful she was already pregnant and moving into the middle trimester. He grinned wickedly, wondering how soon after this one was born before they could start on another. And who’d have thought you were a neanderthal, wantin’ your woman pregnant all the time?
“What’s with the leer?” Her voice startled him, though he recovered quickly.
“Thinking of you. . . “ his voice was low and seductive, sending waves of want straight to her pussy.
“Oh? What were ya thinking about?” Buffy leaned against the door, one hand unconsciously fiddling with her lower lip.
Will glanced at her, his eyes narrowing at her appearance. Her hair was in pigtails, all she had on was one of his tee-shirts and a pair of his socks, and he hoped, not much else.
“C’mere you.” He growled out, crooking his finger at her.
“Nahuh.” She batted her eyes at him and her lips quivered in mock fear. “You’re gonna make me do bad things.”
“Mmm. Perhaps, I might kitten, but you’ll never know unless you come here.” Will ground out that last bit, his voice deep and commanding. He pushed back away from his desk, methodically stacking the graded and un-graded papers in two neat piles on the file cabinet behind him. “You know, you’ve been a bit distracted. . . Not paying attention to your lessons. Bit of a bad girl.”
He couldn’t look at her as he’d said that, afraid that his raw need would overwhelm her, but he couldn’t resist this little bit of roleplaying – it was close enough to what he’d wanted to do numerous times in his classroom to not indulge. After all, she had been his student. And he had wanted to fuck her silly on his desk more than once. Now he could . . .
It took her a minute, but when she spoke, he knew he wasn’t alone in his fantasy about the classroom and the desk. “Gee, Mr. S. I’ve tried really hard to be good, and to pay attention, but I have been kind of distracted lately.”
Her voice was higher than normal, breathier and he knew she was doing it just to get him riled up. Oh baby, two can play this game. . . . “really? And what has you so distracted? You know your grades are slipping dangerously.”
“I. . . I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand.” She stole a glance at him from under her lashes and she internally grinned. He was standing stock still, a pile of papers in his hand and he was trying hard to look at her sternly, but she could just make out the twinkle in his eyes. “Just how bad are my grades?”
“Unless you do some serious studying or something to bring them up, you just might fail this quarter.” He slowly put the pile down, his eyes never leaving her. “Miss Summers, that skirt is entirely too short for school.”
Trying to adopt an innocent look was really hard, especially considering her thoughts weren’t at all innocent, Buffy started to respond, then changed her mind. “What? Its not that short. Not like you can see my panties or anything.”
Her reward was the visible reaction of her soon-to-be husband. A muscle ticked at his temple and his hands fisted at his side. Emboldened by his response, she pressed her advantage. “So, Mr. S., is there anything I can do to make up my grades? I’d be willing to do anything to keep from failing.”
“I don’t know, Miss Summers, you haven’t exactly been deserving of a second chance lately. You never pay attention in my class, you’re always daydreaming and really, why should I give you a chance to make up your grades?” He sat down in his chair, looking at her, waiting to see what she would do next.
She started fiddling with the hem of his tee-shirt, deliberately letting it ride up her thighs and Buffy stood on one leg, her foot resting behind her so that the hem of the shirt rode up even higher. Will was trying not to salivate, but she was driving him insane. In an effort to gain some manner of control, he looked down at his desk, almost dismissing her.
Knowing she was getting to him, Buffy smiled and took a step closer. “Would it help if I . . . there’s this guy and I . . . Never mind. You just wouldn’t understand.”
“Miss Summers, your personal life isn’t, shouldn’t have any bearing on your grades. I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that to try and gain my sympathy.” His voice was harsh, and Will realized this wasn’t so much a game anymore but the reality of their life.
“Even if the guy is you?” She’d moved so quietly that he never realized she was standing next to him until her words sounded almost in his ear. The hem of his tee-shirt hit the top of the desk and Will was unable to focus on anything but that.
It took him a very long time to compose himself. “Are you insinuating that I’m the cause of your distraction?” He was barely able to get the words out, almost whispering them in his need.
“Ahuh. Its . . .yeah. All your fault.” The playful tone was still there and Will eased up a bit, leaning back in his chair to look at her standing by his desk. Her fingers were back on the hem, rolling it up and down under her fingers, exposing more and more of her thighs.
He blew out a breath, looking at her for signs of her trying to play him, using himself as an excuse to explain away her failing grades, or for any signs she was uncomfortable with this not-game they were playing. “Just what did you have in mind to try and make up your grades?”
“Isn’t that kind of up to you? You are the teacher, aren’t you?” She smiled at him, her eyes purposely wide and he wanted to die when she leaned across his desk, her chin resting on her palm and the tee-shirt riding up so high that he could just about get a glimpse of her bare ass. He gaped at her for a long minute then nearly gave up the game when she smiled and said, “so, what are ya gonna make me do?”
Buffy was having way to much fun with this, tempting him, making him lose his mind. And the looks he was giving her and the things he was trying so hard to hide were turning her on. This was all way too much fun. And so much like what she had sometimes dreamed about, although it was maybe just a little bit more graphic, that she was fighting her own arousal.
Will pushed further away from the desk, no longer willing to hide his erection from her. “Well Miss Summers, I really have to think about that. I’m not really sure you might be capable of performing make-up work.”
She nearly collapsed in giggles at his seriously bad attempt at innuendo, but she managed to keep her face straight. Affecting an itch, she reached back and scratched at her butt, pulling the tee-shirt up even higher. His eyes followed the motion of her hand and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he tried to swallow. She knew he was dying to touch her, could feel his hands fisting and she moved her hand, leaving the tee-shirt where it was.
“I’m capable. Look at me, all capability girl. I can do lots of things. I’m really pretty flexible.” She hid her smile behind her hands, afraid she was going to burst out laughing and completely ruin the moment, but she was really having fun. Will is so easy to tease.
“Please, Mr. S. Please, please let me do. . . . Something to make-up the work.”
She watched him struggle to control himself and something within her snapped, she wanted him so badly she couldn’t fight it anymore. He was angled toward her, his erection clearly outlined in his jeans and Buffy couldn’t, and didn’t want to, play any longer. Reaching out, her hand brushed over his thigh, settling on his hard length. “I’d do anything for you Mr. S.”
He groaned, watching as her small hand cupped him through the jeans. “Oh fuck.”
His hips jerked and she popped open the top button, sliding her tiny finger down inside the denim. “Anything to make you happy, Mr. S.”
Oh fuck, the little girl voice. . . The rest of his buttons followed the first in rapid succession and he was lost in the feel of her warm hand sliding up and down his cock. His eyes focused on where she was touching him and he growled low in his throat when she flicked the head, her thumb gathering up the moisture. She gasped and his eyes were drawn to her lips and her tongue was poking out, licking those chewable lips and Will couldn’t not touch her any longer. His hand reached out, exposing all of her backside to his eyes.
“Miss Summers. You aren’t wearing any knickers.” He could hardly speak, the sound of his voice harsh and raspy to his own ears.
She let go of his cock, leaning up on her elbow, almost completely lying on his desk now. The tee-shirt was up over her hip, just barely hiding the coarse curls covering her sex from his view. Buffy brought her other hand up, her eyes steady on his, her little tongue poking out to lick the sticky pre-cum from all of her fingers. Her smile widened at his reaction and she said, “Nope. No panties. Which is why you couldn’t see them under this really short skirt.”
A shaky hand reached out, skimming along the hem, brushing against her. “You are a very bad girl, Miss Summers.“
“But I’m your very bad girl.” She gasped when his fingers tugged on her curls.
“You’re all wet, baby.” Buffy rolled onto her back, spreading her legs for him. Will’s breath caught in his throat and he stumbled to his feet. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”
Brushing her foot over his cock, Buffy hooked her toes into his waistband and tugged Will’s jeans down his hips. “No, you’re the gorgeous one.”
Will couldn’t focus on any one single thought. Thousands of names were running through his head, a thousand thoughts he wanted to share with her. She was wanton, innocent, bitch, angel . . . Irresponsible and determined, broken yet unbowed. . . . vulnerable and formidable. . . and . . . all his.
“Mine. You’re mine kitten. Not letting you go. Now or ever.” His fingers played in her curls, tugging on them gently, circling her heat. “Open up for me baby, lemme see you.”
Buffy spread her legs, draping them over the sides of his desk, causing his tee shirt to cover her pussy from his sight.
With shaky fingers, Will slid his hands over her thighs, then up underneath the soft red cotton. He draped the shirt over her so that her breasts were exposed and the material gathered in the valley between, pointing the way to her pussy. Will leaned over her, his fingers poised to thrust inside her soaking channel and his mouth hovering over one nipple.
“You’re a feast. . . and ‘m gonna eat you all up kitten. . . ‘m gonna drink from your breasts. . . “ he suckled first one then the other. “An’ then ‘m gonna. . . “ his mouth was on her pussy, nibbling and sucking on her clit before Buffy could brace herself.
“Oh god Will.” She cried out, her hands clenching the side of his desk.
Will bit down gently on her clit, thrust two fingers inside and groaned. “Love you. . . “
He got to his feet, watching her face darken with need, her eyes wide open and focused on his. “Cum for me baby girl. . . show me what you’re feelin’ . . . lemme feel you.” Will rotated his fingers, curling them up, brushing them over that spongy spot within her and Buffy whimpered out his name, convulsing around his hand.
Sliding his fngers out of her, Will gripped her thighs and pulled her down to the edge of the desk. “Lemme in, little girl . . . lemme take you.”
Buffy lifted her shaking legs to wrap them around his waist. “Now Will. . . “
His growl of completion as he slid his cock into her warmth was equaled by a shuddering gasp from her. A tiny playful smile lit her face and Buffy reached up to grab his arms, pulling his face toward hers.
“Love you. . . but . . next time? Need faster.” And then she softly screamed out his name as her orgasm ripped through her.
Will checked the hallways and the office before he snuck into the registrar’s office. He’d waited until the last minute to sneak in and “borrow” Buffy’s birth certificate. He’d thought about just getting another original, but this had seemed easier, since it might take over a week to get a second one from Los Angeles.
There was no one in the office and Will headed directly for the student’s records. He had a short period of time when the office was normally unoccupied. Sliding open the drawer labeled Su – Sz, Will quicly located her records. Flipping through the piles of papers, he didn’t find her birth certificate, growing frantic, Will went through them again, finding it the second time around.
Quickly replacing her file and closing the drawer, Will slipped from the office as the secretary came back from lunch. He checked his watch. Two forty-five. In three hours they’d be on their way to Vegas. Will headed for his car, the necessary documents in his jacket pocket.
Everything was packed. Their clothes for the weekend, her dress and his suit in hanging bags, with their dress shoes weighing down the bottoms. It was just the waiting now. Buffy tried buttoning up her jeans, frowning when the closure wouldn’t meet over the slight bulge of her barely protruding belly. Already? No way. She thought about laying down on the bed to button them, then thought again about the long flight and how much worse she was going to feel when she actually had to pee on the plane and she wouldn’t be able to get fully dressed again. Easier to just wear something else. Looking through the meager pile of her belongings, she realized sooner or later, hopefully later, she was either going to have to break down and call her mother or she was going to talk Will into buying her a completely new wardrobe. Isn’t much here, but I’m so not calling my mother . . .
She’d only talked to Willow a couple of times since she’d started living here with Will, and in fact had only admitted to her best friend on Wednesday where she actually was. No use in hiding it, not that she wanted to, but it would be better for Will if they didn’t advertise anything at all. Especially their living arrangements. Looking at the bigger pair of jeans in what was now her drawer, Buffy quickly stripped out of smaller pair. Yup. Much easier doing this than asking Willow to sneak into my house and get some of my clothes. Not fair to make her face the mom-monster when even I don’t wanna do it.
Glancing over the alarm clock by the side of the bed, Buffy sighed. Only two forty-five. Good news is Will’s on his way home. . Bad news? . . . . bad news. . . Buffy sighed again. The doubts and fears that had been plaguing her for the last two days came back to haunt her again. Am I insane? I’m going to marry my English teacher. . . . okay, so technically not in school anymore, but still. . .
She flopped back on the bed, lying cross-wise, staring up at the ceiling. Am I doing the right thing? Am I just using him to run away from my other problems? The real ones . . . . Mom. Riley. Baby. Buffy curled up on her side, facing the headboard and their pillows. She’d mentioned to Will, in passing, while they were shopping that she liked feather pillows instead of foam – and as a surprise he’d bought her three of them. A wistful smile crossed her features, and she smoothed down the comforter that had bunched up when she’d fallen backwards. There was no sense fooling herself. She hadn’t really ever loved Riley, holding a part of herself back from him all the time, but then he hadn’t really tried to get to know her beyond the bouncy Buffy cheerleader facade that she showed everyone. He’d been in love with the idea of her – he’d never read her poetry, never knew she climbed out of her window at night to go talk to her dead grandmother – or any other dead people. Didn’t want to know about how scared she sometimes was when her mother was away for days, weeks at a time. And how sometimes she dreaded her mother being around – especially when she was drinking. . . no, he’d never wanted to know about all that.
But Will. . . . . he read her poetry – okay so some of it had to be turned in for a grade – but he hadn’t dismissed it or belittled her efforts – and he’d found out pretty quickly that she talked to her dead grandmother. Funny thing was – he didn’t mind it at all – in fact, they’d gone together on Wednesday night after she’d talked to Willow. He knew she was scared to be alone – again, because he’d pushed and found out. He hadn’t once been willing to take her at face value, to allow her to pretend. And she hadn’t wanted to, not with him.
She wanted him to see her. Really, truly see her.
Funniest thing of all – he had. Seen that is. From the beginning he’d been able to really see her. And Buffy knew he wasn’t afraid of her seeing the real him either.
Another smile crossed her features, this one tinged with tears. No one had ever really done that for her – really seen her and still loved her. And suddenly, all the doubts she’d been having – well, weren’t completely gone – but they weren’t so real.
Resting her head on his pillow, Buffy inhaled deeply, getting a noseful of his scent and the tears abruptly became breathless giggles.
Yeah, so what am I doing tomorrow? I’m marrying someone I love. The only someone I love. . . . and its all gonna be okay. Coz, I’m not gonna ever stop loving him.
She was sleeping on the bed when he got home, less than a half hour from the time he’d snuck into the registrar’s office. Will stopped at the door to their bedroom, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. Buffy was so tiny, barely hitting five feet tall, and just. . . all around petite. Just a little bit of a thing she was, but his whole world was encompassed in her form. She held the power to break him – destroy his life, his world, crumble everything to dust and yet none of that gave him pause. He was hers and he was willing to do anything to keep her safe.
He hated like hell to wake her, but they had to get moving, since they had to drive to San Diego to catch their flight. The luggage was already in the DeSoto, all he had to do was wake her.
On soft feet he approached the bed, a genuine smile playing about his lips. Drusilla had given him hell about this, running off to Vegas to get married – but when he’d mentioned that it had been good enough for her and Liam, she’d had no room to keep on it. Someday, princess, I promise, we’ll do a whole big thing . . . . church, reception, long honeymoon. Although, spring break is in a couple of weeks. . . Maybe a surprise trip for Valentine’s . . . .
Will laid down on the bed, curling around her, his arms sliding under and over her. “Buffy, c’mon love, time to wake up. Gotta go baby.”
She mewled softly, rocking back against him, but didn’t wake.
He nudged her again, his voice a little louder, mouth just by her ear. “C’mon sweetheart, we need to go.”
Slowly swimming toward wakefulness, Buffy whimpered, asking him in a whisper, “just a little bit longer, please?”
His low chuckle and insistent hands prodded her into action though and Buffy reluctantly opened her eyes. “I’m all comfy now. Don’t wanna get up.”
“We could stay here, if you really want, but the hotel’s all booked, tickets are all paid for . . . “ Buffy rolled over, giving him an evil glare.
“Nope. You woke me up. Now I’m all cranky Buffy.” She pouted at him, which only made him chuckle harder.
“Have I told you how adorable that is?”
“No.” She smiled as he leaned closer, his lips trailing kisses over her face. “But you could tell me again.”
Will rolled over onto his back then sat up. Lifting her up onto his lap, he said, “you’re the most beautiful adorable sight ‘ve ever laid eyes on. . . . an’ we need to go now, if we’re goin’.”
The pout she presented him with was too much for him to resist, so he leaned in, his mouth on hers before she could formulate a thought. The kiss deepened, tongues entwining and her fingers threaded into his curls at the same time his pushed beneath her shirt. Buffy pulled away, gasping for air, resting her forehead against his lips. “We need to go, right?”
“If you wanna get married this weekend, yeah, we do.”
Their eyes met and she smiled softly. “We’ll be able to do this for five or six hundred years then.”
“Definitely. Forever.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek. When he reached her lips she kissed the rough pad, then whispered softly, “then let’s go.”
“After you, kitten.”
So this is all I had in reserve. . . . and I could really use some inspiration . . . so be kind and please leave a reveiw.