The French hors d'oeuvres had been consumed by the guests with zeal, as had the sweets that William had secured for the occasion. A fair amount of imbibing of wines and cordials took place over the course of the night, as well. William was quite certain that his improper gathering had been much more interesting and lively than the tedious, but quite proper, gala ball that took place next door.
But now the garden was dark, empty, and silent. The candles had all burned out, there was no music drifting on the breeze, and all their guests had either gone home or were tucked into their beds upstairs. It was just Elizabeth and William left outside, sitting on one of the benches in the moonlit back garden.
“Did you have a good time this evening?” William asked as Buffy leaned against him and he tucked her under his arm.
“Mmm-hmm. It was the best, William. Nearly perfect,” Buffy assured him. “There was one thing missing that would’ve made it completely perfect.”
William’s brow furrowed in concern. “Servers?” he wondered.
Buffy laughed. “No, not servers,” she clarified as she pulled away and stood up. “Dance with me,” she requested, extending her hand to him.
William look confused. “There’s no music,” he pointed out.
Buffy just inclined her head towards the dance floor and extended her arm a bit further.
William shrugged slightly, taking her hand, then followed her onto the dance floor.
“This is a new dance,” she told him as she pressed her body against his and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You put your arms around me,” she instructed. “It’s very slow and you just move a little bit, like this,” she continued as she began moving her feet and turning them in a slow circle.
“And what do you call this dance without music?” William wondered.
“Oh … there’s music! Can’t you hear it?” Buffy wondered as she began to hum – then sing softly.
“♫ We get it on most every night, when that moon is big and bright. It’s a supernatural delight, everybody’s dancing in the moonlight. Do-do-do-do-do… ♫
“♫ Dancing in the moonlight, everybody's feeling warm and bright. It's such a fine and natural sight, everybody's dancing in the moonlight. Do-do-do-do-do-do…♫”
William smiled and wrapped his arms more tightly around her as she melted into him and they swayed under the moon to her scandalous song. He never knew what his angel would come out with next. He looked forward to hearing every song that she held in her heart, seeing every smile that graced her lips, and ducking every indignant huff when she was told by some poor sod that she couldn’t do something. That it wasn’t proper. It wasn’t ladylike. It just wasn’t done. William wanted nothing more than to experience all that and more; not just today or tomorrow, but for the rest his life – the rest of eternity if possible.
“♫ We like our fun and we never fight, you can't dance and stay uptight. It's a supernatural delight. Everybody was dancing in the moonlight … Dancin’ in the moonlight, do-do-do-do, feeling warm and bright …♫”
When Buffy ran out of verses that she could remember, she just hummed as they kept dancing. William picked the tune up with her, adding his baritone to her Victorian version of karaoke.
After a few more minutes in her arms, William suddenly stopped moving and pulled back to look into her eyes. “You are the most amazing woman, Avengelyne,” he whispered to her before dipping his head and brushing his mouth against hers.
Buffy moaned and nibbled at his lips lightly before pressing her lips against his and darting her tongue into his mouth. He tasted of sugary petit fours and brandy and desire. “Make love to me, William,” she breathed against his lips as she ran her hand over his chest lightly.
William recaptured her lips and pulled her body tightly against his, his all too conspicuous erection pressing hard against her hip. When the kiss broke, he took her hand and began leading her back towards the house, but she pulled back and stood firm.
When he turned, silently questioning her with just his eyes, Buffy shook her head. “No – here. In the moonlight. Make love to me here.”
William swallowed hard as his eyes darted up and around, looking at all the dark windows above them that could see into their garden. “But…” he began to object, waving a hand at the neighboring houses as well as their own.
Buffy stepped back up to him. “Unwrap me in the moonlight, William. I want to feel you touching me here, under the stars. I want to feel the moonbeams caressing my skin. Lay me down in the cool grass and make me burn.”
What was there to say to that invitation? Even if William had been able to form words, there was no riposte to that. He wondered briefly if he’d be fired from the university if he were to be arrested for lewd and lascivious behavior, dragged out of his own back garden, and tossed in with the harlots and tramps. He didn’t think about it long, however – about as long as it took Buffy to run her hand down from his chest to the bulge in his trousers.
He grabbed the hand that was groping him and pulled her over towards the wild cherry tree in the corner of the garden. It would at least give some small amount of cover from insomniacs who may hazard a glance down into their sanctuary.
This time the dance of disrobement wasn’t slow and gentle, but more frantic. William had longed to feel her skin under his palms this whole night and now that need had turned into an urgent, burning desire. In order to feel her skin, however, the first things that had to go were his gloves. And Buffy followed suit, pulling her gloves off as well, and dropping them onto the lawn at their feet. Then it was a hurried scramble for buttons and hooks and ties. There was a gallant battle with the layers of clothing interspersed with kisses and nibbles of heated flesh as it was revealed, bit by naughty bit, to the moonlight.
At last, their clothes lay in heaps on the dew-covered grass; the only things left were Buffy’s hat and the pins in her hair. As William reached for the hat, Buffy stopped him, placing both hands on his hard chest and holding him at arm’s length. He paused and met her gaze, then watched as she backed up another pace from him, into the full glow of the moon above. Her body seemed to shimmer in the soft light. Her creamy skin drank in the moonbeams and reflected them back like a star glittering in the night sky. It was where his angel belonged, he knew – in the heavens. He never went a day without thanking all that was good and holy for bringing her to him and allowing this goddess to walk at his side, here among the mortals on earth.
Buffy slowly lifted her arms and pulled the pins out that were holding her hat on, then tossed it to the side with the rest of her clothes as William watched, enraptured. Then she set to removing all the pins and combs that held her long, fiery mane atop her head. When her soft tresses cascaded down like flashes of flickering flames and washed over her shoulders, William drew in a sharp breath. She was radiant … effulgent.
Buffy held her hand out to him, encouraging him to move out from under the canopy of the tree and into the light of the moon with her. He swallowed hard and took two steps forward. He could no longer see the dark windows of the houses above them. All he could see was this beauty that stood before him, unabashed, unafraid, uninhibited. This angel who had taught him so much, who had, in fact, shown him what true love was and what it meant to be a man, beckoned him and he could not refuse her allure.
“You grow more lovely by the day, Avengelyne,” he murmured to her as he took her hand and stepped up close enough that her breasts touched his chest.
Buffy clasped her hands on each side of his face as she rose up on her toes and captured his lips with hers. She never got tired of feeling his lips on her, of tasting him, of seeing his desire for her standing hard and proud, of hearing his voice calling her name, of stifling his cries with her own. Her core ached for him to be inside her – she’d longed for him all day, all night. She longed for him every day, to be honest. But this night, seeing him in his finery, watching him move and dance as his tuxedo hugged his body, her desire was even stronger, burning like a bonfire within her.
William wrapped his arms around her and ran his hands lightly up and down the soft skin of her back, exploring every dip and rise of her body as they kissed. The passion she raised in him made him feel like an animal, a beast. Not long ago he would’ve been ashamed to admit such a thing, but his angel had been the one to show him the primal lust that lurked just beneath the surface. She’d been the one to bring it out of him and she was not ashamed, so he embraced it, gave in to it, let himself ‘just be’.
William pushed her down onto the soft, thick mat of grass at their feet and Buffy went without hesitation. When he grabbed her hips and flipped her over onto hands and knees, she felt the flames within her fan higher. And suddenly, he was inside her, filling her, fucking her tight, wet pussy with the power that she loved. Buffy dropped down from her hands to her elbows on the grass as William held her hips in his hands and slammed into her from behind. The animal was free – she’d given him the key to his own cage and welcomed his feral desire into the light. There was no place for shame, only for pleasure, for them both.
Buffy’s long mane of copper-red hair danced in the moonlight as it fell over the ivory skin of her back and shoulders. William reached one hand out to tangle in its softness. He loved the way it felt against his skin, like silken sunshine. Her body moved with him under the night sky, pressing back against him as he thrust forward. He craved her passion like he craved air to breathe – it was more than a desire, it was a burning need, and she filled it time and time again.
Wave after wave of pleasure washed through Buffy’s body as William pounded into her, each thrust harder than the one before. She bit down on her forearm to keep from screaming out lest the dark windows above them open their sleepy eyes. She felt his fingers tangle in her hair and she lifted her head away from her arm to bathe him in her tresses. When he reached around her, slid a finger between her folds and touched her clit, Buffy’s body jerked and bucked against him. The bonfire within her exploded in a fiery eruption of ecstasy.
William fought against his own need to call her name to the heavens, to howl at the moon, to announce his bliss to the whole world. How could she bring this out in him so easily? His whole body thrummed and tingled as her pussy tightened and pulled him deeper into her wet heat. He was certain that even the goddess Aphrodite could not hold a candle to his earth angel – she was perfection personified. Her lust, her passion, her humor, her kind heart, her dangerous pouts … her love. She meant the world to him. He could deny her nothing; he would never even try.
William felt her body convulse under him, could hear her muffled cries as she came and he slammed into her harder, lifting her on the moonbeams, allowing her to soar and glide through her old home among the gods for as long as he could. Buffy dropped her upper body and head down, and screamed against the cool grass and earth below her. She couldn’t hold it in – if she did, the fire would surely consume her.
With a final, savage thrust into her, William’s cum exploded out of his quivering, spent body and filled her. He leaned forward and buried his own loud moans of pleasure against her back as his cock surged and throbbed within her heat, draining him.
When her husband released his tight hold on her and pulled away, Buffy collapsed down onto the cool grass and rolled onto her back, her arms and legs splayed haphazardly on the lawn. She was sure she could hear steam hissing from under her where her hot flesh hit the dew-covered blades of rye-grass that served as their bed.
William moved up next to her on hands and knees. She was resplendent in the moonlight. Why had she not shown this to him before? Her damp skin glowed and shimmered in the soft, white light that shone down on her from the heavens. Her breasts heaved and swayed as she fought to get air back into her body, the muscles of her stomach and legs still trembled slightly from the exertion and pleasure of her orgasm. She was dazzling.
William dropped his mouth down and began to kiss her heated flesh, causing new rivers of chill-bumps to spring up and tingle over her soft, creamy skin. He suddenly felt the need to kiss every inch of her, to lick every drop of perspiration from her body, and to taste his essence mingled with hers.
“You are an angel, Avengelyne. A true gift from the gods,” he murmured to her as his mouth moved steadily over her quivering flesh.
His lips and tongue whispered over her skin and Buffy moaned her approval as she tangled her hands in his soft, curly hair. Her body still thrummed from her orgasm, blood still rushed passionately through her veins, her womanhood still tingled with desire. Instead of all those things slowing and calming, William’s mouth, tongue, and now hands were revving them up again. Her heart pounded feverishly in her chest, her breaths came fast and shallow, and her vagina pulsed with renewed need.
“William … so good,” Buffy moaned and he licked and kissed and caressed her body. “Love you so much.”
William smiled, rose up, and moved to capture her lips with his. “And I love you more than you could ever know,” he whispered against her lips between soft kisses.
Buffy began running her hands over her body, across her stomach, up to the swell of her breasts to her hard nipples. When she came in contact with William’s strong arm that he was using to support himself over her, she trailed her hand up and teased her fingers over his shoulder and down his back to the curve of his ass, giving it a firm squeeze.
“Make me cum, William,” Buffy begged as he resumed his mission to kiss every inch of her skin.
“Your wish, milady, is my command,” William murmured against her skin as he moved down her body.
William settled between her legs and laid his body down on the cool grass. He lifted her legs up and draped them over his shoulders, opening her glistening flower to him.
His own heart raced in his chest in anticipation of tasting his own juices mingled with hers, but he didn’t want to rush this … he wanted to savor it. He took a deep, calming breath and looked up at the dark windows that surrounded their back garden. If anyone looked out of those windows, what would they think? Before Avengelyne, if he had looked out and seen such a sight, what would he have done? Fainted dead away? Stood, transfixed, and watched? Closed the blinds and left the couple to their tawdry dance? Called the Constable and reported the barbaric behavior?
He smiled to himself and shook his head. The former was most likely what he would’ve done – fainted dead away; although the latter would’ve been the proper course of action, and he was a proper gentleman to be sure. After all, having vulgarians living next door would most certainly lower the property values of the whole neighborhood.
Buffy lifted one foot up and dropped her heel down in the middle of his back between his shoulder blades – hard, pulling William from his musings. “What are you doing? I’m pretty sure sex via mental telepathy doesn’t really get the job done, William.”
“My apologies … you are simply divine, my darling,” William explained as he wriggled around and tried to push his shoulder blades together and ease the pain she’d imparted on his mid-back with her heel. “I was completely lost in the beauty of you.”
“Uh-huh …” Buffy agreed sarcastically. “That’s why you were looking up at the … Oh God!”
William smirked as he twirled his tongue around her clit again and flicked it over the hard nub, the tip of his tongue just barely touching the bundle of nerves. There was one way to get her to stop talking … one sure way. William moaned against her as he tickled his tongue down from her clit to her dripping hole. His tongue darted out and tasted the slickness that covered her.
Their juices mingled together into a salty, tangy manna that he loved. The feel, the flavor, the sensation of it made his cock jump again. Before his angel, he’d only known one woman intimately: his wife, Cecily. She was cold and distant and they rarely made love. She would never, ever have allowed such a wanton display of debauchery. Never. The pleasures that his fallen angel had shown him over the last year had amazed and astonished him … and at times embarrassed him, truth be told. But she had been encouraging and passionate and she wanted him. Carnally. He’d fallen in love with her that very first night and that love had only grown with each passing day.
William dipped his tongue into her deeply, burying his face in her damp folds and Buffy’s hips jerked up against him. Her hands teased her sensitive nipples as he licked and slurped their slick, decadent dew from her chalice.
“Yes … William … more, baby,” Buffy urged him as her hands wandered down her body, momentarily tangling in his curls, then back up again. And he gave her more.
He slipped a slender finger down her slit and found her aching clitoris, and Buffy’s back arched up off the soft grass. She had to press her arm over her mouth to keep her cries contained within the garden walls.
“Yes … yes … yes …” she moaned as her hips bucked against him. She could feel the heat rising again from her loins, creeping up her body, ready to explode at any moment. She used her free hand to twist and pull her hard nipples, and the fire jumped and surged within her further. Then William moved his mouth back to her clit and sucked down on it hard, nibbling with his teeth and flicking his tongue against it rapidly.
Words lost all meaning as Buffy’s body convulsed under him. Bright colors pulsed behind her closed eyelids, her toes curled, and her legs quivered, jumped, and spasmed with every touch of his tongue to her clit. The fire within her raged as if blown by the Santa Ana winds across a parched landscape – leaving nothing in its wake but burnt embers and billowing ashes.
William knew he had taken her there as her body tightened and her muffled cries vibrated through her, unable to escape past her arm. Feeling her under him, tasting her like this, made his own need rise within him again with an urgency and passion he’d never felt with anyone but Avengelyne.
Before Buffy could even come down from her orgasm, her arm that was stifling her cries was yanked away from her mouth and replaced with William’s lips. She could feel his body moving against hers – hard and hot and damp from the dew on the grass and their exertion. She wrapped her legs around his slim hips and welcomed his hardness into her. William fought to go slow this time, to watch her face as he entered her. It was when she was the most beautiful: in those moments when he was pressing in, when she was welcoming him into her with love and desire.
He pulled back from the kiss and his angel opened her loving eyes and gazed up at him. The moonbeams seemed to have dropped stars into those emerald pools and they sparkled with joy. He could easily get lost in those eyes … drown in them for all eternity. His angel gasped when he pushed in, and then her moan seemed to come as a purr from deep within her body, perhaps from her very soul. She wrapped her arms around his back and lifted her hips up slowly to meet his.
William’s blue eyes gazed down on her with so much love, so much reverence and awe that Buffy wondered if there was someone else he was seeing – surely all that couldn’t be for her. She bit her lip as a joyous smile graced her lips as she realized that yes, it really was for her. He showered her with passion and deep, abiding love as he pressed into her. His blue eyes danced with devotion and tenderness as he stared down on her, transfixed. She could feel him stretching her, filling her, completing her, as his cock slid in. Then, when he was buried to the root, the tip of his cock pressing against her cervix, he stopped moving.
Buffy took a breath and let it out slowly as she savored every emotion, every sensation that he was pouring over her. She lifted her head up until her mouth was next to his ear and whispered, “Make love to me, William.”
And there was the angel inside the woman. William’s heart soared. There was no denying that he craved the frantic, animalistic, primal sex they often had, but he dearly adored making love to her. Soft, sweet, slow, sensual love.
William dipped his head down and brushed a kiss on her lips as he started moving his hips, pulling out just as slowly and deliberately as he’d pressed in. He kept his eyes locked onto hers, drinking in the beauty of her as they made love on the lawn of the back garden in the moonlight. Nothing could’ve been more perfect.
**~**
William couldn’t wipe the school-boy grin off his face even if he’d wanted to as he climbed into their bed and pulled the quilt up to cover their bare bodies later that night. The sun would be up soon, he knew. He'd left a note for Nellie to not wake them for breakfast, simply saying that they would join the family for tea later in the day.
He spooned against his wife’s back and she wriggled back against his body. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle, as if they were made for each other. William nuzzled against her neck, burying his face in her fiery mane and breathing in the scent of her. He could never get enough of that heavenly aroma, never get enough of her soft skin, her supple body pressed against him … never get enough of her.
Buffy pulled one of his arms over her body and intertwined her fingers with his as she cuddled back against him and sighed happily. Her eyes fluttered closed, but the contented smile never faded, even as she drifted towards sleep.
“I love you, William,” she whispered in a sleepy voice, giving his hand a squeeze.
**~**
Spike turned on his side and cuddled against the undulating wall of the demon-octopus’ stomach. The acidic bile that it secreted seared his face and lips, producing angry, red craters in his flesh, but he didn’t notice. He was far, far away from there.
“And I love you, Avengelyne,” he murmured, nuzzling against the nape of his angel’s neck, as his own eyes drooped and contented exhaustion overtook them both.
**~**
Historical Trivia:
A Knocker-up was a profession in England and Ireland that started during and lasted well into the Industrial Revolution, before alarm clocks were affordable or reliable. A knocker-up’s job was to rouse sleeping people so they could get to work on time. The knocker-up often used a long and light stick (often bamboo) to reach windows on higher floors. In return, the knocker-up would be paid a few pence a week for this job. The knocker-up would not leave a client’s window until they were assured the client had been awoken. This all leads to the obvious question: who knocks up the knocker-up?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knocker-up
**~**
{{ Click here to hear Dancing in the Moonlight, King Harvest on YouTube }}
We get it on most every night
When that moon is big and bright
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight
Everybody here is out of sight
They don't bark and they don't bite
They keep things loose, they keep it tight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight
Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody's feeling warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight
We like our fun and we never fight
You can't dance and stay uptight
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody was dancing in the moonlight
Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody's feeling warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight
We get it on most every night
And when that moon is big and bright
It's a supernatural delight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight
Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody's feeling warm and bright
It's such a fine and natural sight
Everybody's dancing in the moonlight