Thirty-third. Words that bring the storm
Ye that follow the vision
Of the world’s weal afar,
Have ye met with derision
And the red laugh of war?
Yet the thunder shall not hurt you
Nor the battle storms dismay;
Tho’ the sun in heaven desert you
Love will find out the way.
Alfred Noyes, Love will find out the Way.
Without, the frost, the blinding snow,
The storm-wind’s moody madness—
Within, the firelight’s ruddy glow,
And childhood’s nest of gladness.
The magic words shall hold thee fast:
Thou shalt not heed the raving blast.
Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass, epigraph
It is the stillest words that bring on the storm.
Thoughts that come on doves’ feet guide the world.
Friedrich Nietzsche, Sämtliche Werke: Kritische Studienausgabe, vol. 4
“Will, put me down.”
The only answer she got was a negative shake, keys rattling in time to the head bobbing of her insane husband.
“C’mon Will, put me down.” A soft whine crept into her voice, but even then he didn’t relent. “I am allowed to walk now.”
The keys, which had been hanging from his mouth dropped into her lap and the only answer she got was, “Unlock the door, kitten.”
“Put me down first.”
“Nope. Gonna do this right, this time.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “Open the door.”
“This is crazy, you know that?” Buffy rolled her eyes and picked up the keys.
Will smiled down at her, his eyes sparkling with humor. “No, this is tradition. Didn’t do it the first time, an’ look what happened. Not taking any more chances.”
Buffy slid the key into the lock, then pushed open the door. “I still say it’s crazy.”
“Trust me Buffy, this is the right thing to do.”
He made a big deal of stepping over the threshold, a wide grin gracing his features. “Welcome home, wife.”
Buffy wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his lips. “You are crazy, Will. That’s probably why I love you so much.”
“She is insane, you know that, don’t you?” Cordelia checked the shine of her nailpolish, idly wondering whether she should go for a manicure or not. She glanced up to see Xander staring at her. “What? Oh, please, like you didn’t know? Willow’s lost her mind.”
When Xander didn’t respond to most of her – admittedly rhetorical – questions, Cordelia leaned closer to his face and snapped her fingers. “Xander, pay attention. There’s no way Riley is following her.”
“Cordy?”
“What now?” She raised a regal eyebrow, then swivelled around in her chair when Xander merely pointed to a spot behind her. She stared, her eyes not believing what she was seeing. Willow was walking toward them, completely unaware Riley Finn was dogging her steps, about ten paces behind her.
“Oh my god. I can’t believe it. What the hell?”
Cordelia whirled around, facing Xander once more. “Why is he doing that? Do you think she’s right about the other stuff?”
“Could be. Which means we gotta be really careful.”
Without another word to her boyfriend, Cordelia got up and stalked to where Willow had stopped to talk to Jonathan Levinson, Riley hovering just out of Willow’s line of sight. Barely sparing the boy a glance, Cordelia said, “Beat it short stuff. C’mon Willow, we have to leave now.”
Tugging a somewhat reluctant Willow behind her, Cordelia swept passed Xander and with a slight nod in his direction, the two girls left the cafeteria. Xander stood up, his eyes on the panic-stricken face of Riley. Just as the other boy approached his table, clearly following the two girls, Xander moved, blocking his path to the door. Folding his arms across his chest, Xander stood his ground, waiting for Riley to back down.
It took him a little while, but he did, eventually turn away. Neither of them had spoken, the silent battle of wills taking place without any anger, though Riley had the sinking suspicion that Xander wouldn’t hesitate to initiate another fight. He couldn’t afford another mark against him – something Xander was more than aware of, using it to his advantage. With a somewhat beaten expression, Riley shook his head and turned away, completely missing the smug look on Xander’s face.
Once across the threshold, Will dropped the supporting arm beneath Buffy’s hips, allowing her feet to hit the floor. At the same moment his lips descended on hers, his kiss hard and hungry.
Hands settled at her waist, holding her close. Blunt teeth nibbled at her lips, his tongue begging for entrance into her mouth. Warm fingers played with his curls, then dropped down to undo his tie, slide past buttoned barriers.
“Need you.” His voice was a low rumble against her neck, wringing soft shivers from her taut nerves.
“What about work?” Feather light touches, soft knuckles pressing, scraping across his skin. Will shrugged out of his duster, letting the black leather pool around their feet.
Shaky hands burrowed under the fall of her hair, sliding down between layers of fabric, peeling away her coat.
“Took the afternoon. ‘M done.”
“Oh.” The almost silent hiss of cotton sliding from beneath his belted waist countered her breathy whisper. “Will?” Snick and pop of metal against leather, the thud of a heavy coat falling to the floor, were the only real sounds in the house.
“Yeah?”
Skin, soft, silky, golden warming his hands, her breath wafting over his collar.
Nip of small teeth tugging on his earlobe. “Upstairs. . . . “
“Can’t wait.” The slow fall of trousers. . . . Will’s fingers questing beneath elasticized lace, her small hand palming the head of his weeping cock. “Oh baby, need you too much.”
High-pitched whimpers countered his low groans while his fingers slid between her slick folds. “God I missed . . . . need you . . . “
Tongues meshed, teeth nipped and nuzzled, mouths devouring each other. Buffy slipped her shoes off and their height difference increased, Will’s fingers inside her core lifting her back up to her toes. “So wet, baby. . . . So damn wet.”
Her hand stroked over his hip, sliding around to cup his buttocks. His cock bucked against the curve of her gravid belly, smearing pre-cum on her skin. “Want you inside me . . . please, now . . . “
Dropping his head down onto her shoulder, Will rasped out something, one hand fumbling for the clasp of her bra, anxious to feel the weight of her breasts in his hands.
Stretchy lace buckled and gave under his fingers, falling down between them. Pebble hard nipples poked into his skin and Will lifted the bra, tossing it away. Buffy stepped back, lifting her feet from the pants pooled around her ankles. Will followed, then glanced down at her barely suppressed giggle. He was naked, save for the shoes and socks on his feet and Buffy couldn’t stop the gurgles of mirth from erupting.
“Oh Will, that’s sooo sexy.”
He growled at her, then dropped to his knees to take off the shoes and socks, his cock still hard and weeping for her. “I’ll show you sexy, little girl.”
Her eyes shone with laughter, though her words were serious. “You do Will, every day. . . . Don’t you . . . god you are so. . . . “
His head lifted, a piercing light in his indigo eyes. “No more than you, baby, all you have to do is look at me and I’m gone.”
Buffy’s voice dropped to a bare whisper, all laughter gone. “I’m looking now. . . .”
Will surged to his feet, his eyes sweeping over her naked form. “So am I . . . “
His hand circled her hip, pulling her close. “Wanna see you. . . . watch your face when I slide into you.”
Backing her into the living room, Will decided he was going to fulfill his ongoing fantasy of seeing her splayed out naked against the black leather couch. Plucking the back cushions off and tossing them to the floor, he gently pushed her down so that her head was against the armrest.
“My god, baby. . . . You are gorgeous.” He stopped still, watching the breath lift her breasts, the sheen of the moisture he’d left on her belly, the pink folds of her sex teasing him, laid out, his for the taking against the backdrop of black leather.
“Will. . . . please . . . “ her hand slid down, almost innocently caressing her own skin, following the hills of her breast, tweaking her dark pink nipple, resting over her distended belly.
Nostrils flared, jaw clenching, Will fought his own arousal, wanting to watch her, basking in the delayed gratification. This is torture, but oh dear, god, it’s so fucking delicious . . .
“Sweetheart. . . . slide those fingers down, just a bit. . . . yeah. . . . touch yourself. . .. “ it was more than a plea, it was nearly a prayer and just the sight of it, her fingers parting her pussy for him was enough to nearly drive him to his knees. ‘Oh yeah, baby, that’s it. . . . “
He fisted his cock, desperate for friction. Buffy bit her lip, fighting to keep herself from begging him, fingering the hard button of her clit. Her hips lifted, an offering to him and Will’s self control shattered. He surged forward, dropping down between her opened thighs, his mouth latching on, sucking her nipple into his needy mouth.
“Oh Will, need you . . . “ Buffy found his cock, their hands circling around the base together, guiding him inside.
Rising to his knees, Will changed his angle, to watch his cock thrust into her pussy. “God, baby. . . . this is. . . . so fuckin’ tight. . . . feel what you do. . . . “
It had been too long, two whole bloody weeks without her and he could barely hold his need back. Too soon he was feeling his balls draw up, the rush filling his head, a roaring in his ears . . . Will dropped back down, holding himself still, afraid to come too soon for her, needing to make it good. His cheek brushed against hers and he felt the telltale trace of tears. “Buffy?”
“Oh god, I missed you sooo much. Please, Will, come . . . I need to feel you come with me. Missed you, missed you. . . . now, please.” Her hips lifted, inner walls clenching around him and he realized they were both holding back.
“Buffy. . . . Buffy . . . love. . . . “ His lips met hers, arms sliding under her, lifting her up and he settled back on his haunches, thrusting up into her. Fingernails dug into his biceps, as his cock hit the spongy, over sensitive spot inside her. His name erupted from her throat, pushed out by the force of his churning hips. Inner walls fluttered, strangling his cock and Will growled, lunged one more time up into her and spent himself, pulsing his release into her welcoming depths.
Collapsing onto his back, Will held onto his wife, letting her body rest on his.
They went out to dinner in celebration, both of them figuring it was worth the risk just to get out of the house. Picking a restaurant a couple of towns away, Will was fairly certain they’d be safe. It was early, just going on five and the only other patrons weren’t paying them the least bit of attention.
Dinner had been great and they’d taken a further chance by walking along the waterfront pier, laughing and holding hands. The gamble had paid off, though, because they ran into not a single person either of them knew.
It was after ten, when they were finally heading home, that Buffy started craving ice cream. Will had laughed at her, remarking, “I asked you not half an hour ago, while we were standing in front of the ice cream place.”
“I didn’t want it then. Besides, I want Phish Food.”
Spotting the open grocery store, Will pulled into the parking lot. “All right, sweetheart. You comin’ in?”
“Yup.”
Blinking at the bright fluorescent lights, the two headed inside.
Joyce was out of coffee – and milk – and truth be told, needed to get out of the too silent house. Instead of heading toward the huge supermarket, she opted for the smaller one about a mile away. Less crowds. . . . less chance of bumping into anyone I know. . . .
She was standing in the coffee aisle, when two people walking by caught her attention. That looked just like Buffy. . . . Joyce shook her head at the fanciful thought. Selecting the coffee, Joyce dumped it into the basket and moved toward the dairy aisle.
She made a beeline straight for the frozen foods, her eyes lighting up at the selection, enough so that Will laughed out loud. Buffy opened the door holding the Ben & Jerry’s, nearly diving in, going through the pints, searching for the one she wanted, whining when she couldn’t find it. “Will, gimme a hand, please?”
“I’m just going to get hot chocolate mix.”
“Ooooh. Okay. Don’t forget the mini-marshmallows.”
“Gotcha.”
Will handed her the basket, then headed away. There was a blond woman wandering the aisles and he didn’t think anything of it, or her, until he walked past and recognized her.
Oh bloody. . . . shite. . . . no. Not this. . . .
Instead of heading toward his destination, Will circled around, almost sprinting for the spot he’d left Buffy in, hoping he reached her before her mother realized who he was.
Have to get her out of here. . . . have to . . . .
He made it around the corners, taking them almost at a run, his brain scrambling for a reason to get Buffy out of here without having her ask too many questions. Thankfully she was still going through the display, and it would be hard for anyone to recognize her from that view, even her mother. Will was watching the aisle and he could feel his heart thumping away in his chest, fear making the sound loud in his ears. Gasping for air, he bent over, his eyes watching, waiting for disaster to fall. There was no good reason he could come up with, nothing came into his head at all, and he was beginning to think the only way he could get her out of there was to bodily pick her up and carry her. She might protest, but in the long run she’d forgive him for it.
Just about to turn around and scoop her up, Will halted at the sound of footsteps behind them. He groaned, instintively knowing that his luck had just run out. Pivoting around on one foot, he turned around to see Buffy’s mother looking through the displays, ignoring the young couple. Will stepped around, blocking Buffy’s form and figured he could brazen it out, as long as Buffy kept quiet.
Rocking forward on the balls of his feet, Will tried to figure out how to keep the two women apart. At the moment, neither one of them was aware of the other, though that could change at any second.
Leave. . . . c’mon ya blasted bitch, just go. . . . Go . . . don’t see us . . .
Luck wasn’t with him, because Joyce glanced up in his direction and a slight smile creased her face. “Mr. Stevenson? Is that you?”
Fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck.
“Yeah. I’m sorry I don’t recognize you. You are?” He tried for the lie, putting enough confusion into his tone to indicate that he knew he’d seen her, just couldn’t put a name to a face.
She stared at him for a moment, then said quietly, “I’m Joyce Summers, Buffy’s mother.”
“Oh.” He was at a complete loss. Will had absolutely no idea what to say or how to act.
It was at that precise moment everything fell to pieces. Buffy stood up, completely unaware of the tension around her and the cause of it, exclaiming loudly. “Oohhhh! Look! I got the last pint. Go me!”
He’d never seen such a play of emotions on one person’s face before. Joy, relief, fear, anger, love and utter confusion flitted across his mother-in-law’s features. Will imagined his face wasn’t much better.
Buffy looked past Will’s shoulder to see her mother standing there, staring at the pair of them.
The last person in the world she’d expected to see when she stood up was her mother. Will was blocking her, standing between them, every muscle in his body tense with anticipation. Buffy held the ice cream pint in her hand, squeezing it rhythmically and she unconsciously leaned closer to Will. Her mind was blank, no single clear thought in her head at all.
“Will?” She whispered low, her hand seeking his and he caught her fingers between his, pressing them in support.
“Right here, baby.”
Buffy glanced up at him, their eyes meeting. “Don’t leave me. No matter what happens.”
“Not gonna, baby. I’m staying right here.”
“Buffy?” Her mother’s voice broke into their sotto-voce conversation, drawing their combined attention to where she was standing.
“Mom.” Part of her wasn’t sure how to behave – and another side of her was angry. Very angry. The last time she’d seen her mother, Joyce had been screaming at her and had just slapped her, very nearly throwing her out of the house. The words her mother had flung at her had hurt causing more than one crying jag. And now here she was, just standing there, staring at the two of them.
“I. . . . How are you?” Joyce kept staring, her eyes riveted, unblinking, on her only child. It almost seemed she were afraid to blink, for fear the sight in front of her would fade like some horrible mirage.
I’m gone for weeks . . . and all she can ask me is ‘how are you?’ What the hell is that . . . Doesn’t she have anything else to say? Gah. I really don’t want to do this now . . . to explain everything, to . . . . I don’t even know if I wanna talk to her.
“Okay. You?” It was nearly impossible to miss the frost in her tone, but Buffy did nothing to soften it. And she knew, without having to ask, she had Will’s complete support, so even if her mother didn’t approve, she knew everything was going to be okay.
“I’ve been okay.” She paused, visibly searching for something to say to her daughter. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Despite the wince, neither of the two blondes took pity on the woman nor gave her anything remotely resembling a response. Gee, Mom, how lame a question is that? I’m sure I’m okay . . .
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
Will leaned over to take the ice cream from her hands, catching her hand flexing around the softening stuff out of the corner of his eye. “Gimme that.”
Buffy stared down at it blankly, then handed it off, silently watching him for the moment ignoring the unwanted presence of her mother at the end of the aisle. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right, sweetheart.”
His voice was low, but not low enough, because her mother flinched, then flashed a look neither one of them could interpret.
“Sweetheart?” Joyce shook her head, then focused on the pair of them again. “Buffy, where have you been? What’s going on? How come . . . how come you haven’t called me?”
A deep sigh wafted from Buffy, and he could almost hear the mental battle she was currently engaged in, and the grinding of her teeth as she fought the words her brain wanted to scream. “Really not the time or the place to do this, Mom.”
The tone, and Buffy’s comments, seemed to set off Joyce’s temper. “What do you mean, now isn’t the time? I’ve . . . I haven’t seen you or heard from you, young lady, in more than two months and now I’m supposed to wait? I don’t think so. Too bad this isn’t to your liking. We’re going to talk. Now.”
Buffy stiffened beside him, and Will braced himself, trying to keep calm, because the last thing she needed right now was for him to lose his temper, jump in and say something colossally stupid. But it was there, his temper was just about to hit boiling, and he wasn’t
going to be able to get a hold on it if Joyce kept going.
“Mom. Lower your voice. I so don’t want this all over the place.”
Joyce bristle visibly, lines of tension and anger bracketing her mouth. She had a pinched look about her features as if she were swallowing something foul. “Fine, I’ll lower my voice. But I expect some explanations.”
Buffy glanced at Will, then tugged on the hand clasped with hers. She raised an eyebrow, communicating silently and he shook his head negatively.
“Neutral ground, pet.” Was all the comment he made, the only concession he was going to make for Joyce. He didn’t want to have this out in a public venue, nor was he willing to do this at either house.
“Come on, Mom, let’s go.” Buffy motioned her mother toward the exit, heading in that direction without a backward look.
Will followed behind, stopping only to grab plastic spoons and pay for their items.
Happy Holidays all. . . . .