A month into this high school guidance counselor gig, and Buffy Summers wasn't so sure if this was the right occupation for her. It paid the bills, sure, and helped her take care of Dawn. It even got that uber intimidating social worker Doris Kroeger off her back. That was a huge plus, but God was the work boring. Her days were spent doing paperwork and talking to disrespectful teens about their futures. Seven hours a day, five days a week, and that's not counting every time she has to come in early or stay late after hours. Don't even get her started on class field trips, detentions, and the dreaded parent teacher nights. It doesn't help that her little sister, who's now a Junior, likes to pretend her older sister doesn't exist during school. I mean would it kill her to stop by once and a while to say hello, or God forbid, actually wave back whenever they cross paths in the halls? Her office space gets lonely from time to time, and none her friends work here. Which was very much not a huge plus. Unless you count Principal Wood, the reason she's even here in the first place. When her cousin's boyfriend found out she was struggling to make ends meet, he offered her a job on campus she could manage. That wouldn't require a teaching degree or extensive knowledge about a class subject. She accepted because what else was she supposed to do? Now here she is: sorting manilla folders, sending emails to parents, and calling kids into her office via the loud speaker. 

 Which, okay, the loud speaker thing is kinda cool, but the rest of it? Sooooo not what she'd rather be doing with her day. Speaking of dealing with the youth of today, she's supposed to be meeting with a newish transfer student. She shuffles around a few of the folders that're currently cluttering her desk, until his is on top of the stack. She flips it open with little interest, it's procedure of course. That and how much of a bitch would she be if she called a student in for a meeting and didn't even know their name? William Pratt, age fifteen, a sophomore. Came here from London, England around two weeks ago. She actually hasn't had the opportunity to meet this one yet, she called in sick that day. Which she totally was by the way, if being majorly hungover counts as sick. Not that she makes a habit of getting completely wasted during the school week. It was Faith's fault really, she insisted they went out the night before to celebrate Buffy's twenty-first birthday. Which is Faith speak for go to the Bronze, do shots. Dance, do more shots. Do some 'harmless' flirting, and finishing it off with even more shots. As she scans his file she notices his nearly perfect grades and attendance. She already knew that wasn't what he was coming in for anyway. All of his teachers had nothing but nice things to say about him. The only thing that was bothering the staff was how withdrawn and shy he seemed. 

 At first they thought is was due to the move and being new, but as time wore on they determined it was due to low self esteem and a lack of social skills. Needless to say he didn't have any friends that the faculty knew of, and the popular kids were awfully fond of making fun of him. His latest school photo was included with his records. What she saw was teen with a curly, unruly mop of sandy brown hair. Wire rimmed spectacles that were partially covered by said hair. She couldn't tell what his eye color was. There was too much in the way and his head was tilted downwards slightly. His entire posture was stiff and hunched, it screamed don't notice me. He wore a full suit that was a bit big on his already lean frame, it made him appear even smaller. As if he wanted his clothing to swallow him whole. Given the reports and how he apparently holds himself, she's sure he wouldn't mind if the ground beneath him cracked open and devoured his entire being. She was so absorbed with studying his portrait that she nearly missed the soft knock on her door. That should be him, hopefully he's as polite and respectful as everyone claims he is. Nearly every student she's had to deal with so far have been pretty rude and sarcastic. Choosing to not take her seriously because she's one of the youngest members of staff. Yet also acting like she's some shriveled up old dinosaur. She has no idea who started it, but for spite, or some long running joke at her expense, they've taken to calling her Mrs. Summers. 

 Not Miss, but MRS., and not because they think she's married or something less offensive. That's just what you call the middle aged and older ladies around here. Hell, she did the same when she was a student here. Which wasn't that long ago by the way. Maybe she could take it with some dignity it that's where it stopped, but no, they also call her ma'am. Oh, and how could she forget the newest addition to their vocabulary, Old Lady Summers. She's tried to combat the name calling by tweaking her wardrobe, adding in pieces that teen Buffy would've worn. Or in today's case, actually did wear. She was going through one of her year books the other day, she was feeling nostalgic, when she stumbled across some photos from that year's talent show. Her outfit, not the one she wore on stage, was actually really cute. A leopard print mini dress, with a black leather coat of the same length, and calf high black leather heeled boots. She didn't have the exact outfit still on hand, but she was able to find replicas at the mall. In the photo her hair was in a ponytail. It worked well with the look, and you know what they say, if it ain't broke don't fix it. So ponytailing her hair this morning was a no brainer. "Come in.", she answered in response to the knocking. The door creaked open a smidge as someone poked their head through. Not just anyone, William. Nervous bright blue eyes locked into hers. How beautiful, she couldn't help but think. 

 "Y-you, erm, wanted to see me, Miss Summers?", he timidly asked. Buffy blinked, taking a moment to gather herself. How long of a dry spell has she had if she's sitting here thinking a student's beautiful. EYES, a student's EYES are beautiful, not the student himself. Also in her defense, she's never met someone with eyes that blue. She clears her throat before closing the folder she's had open this entire time. "Yes, would you come in please William?", she politely and professionally requests. He slowly enters the room, gently closing the door behind him. She wordlessly gestures to the chairs lined up in front of her desk. He stiffly lowers himself onto the center one. Getting a closer look at him, she rethinks her earlier thought of his eyes being the only beautiful thing about him. He had long full lashes that could make any girl jealous. Full plump lips that, could also, make any girl jealous. Then there were his cheekbones, they were so sharp she wouldn't be surprised if those bad boys could cut glass. There was something so delicate, feminine, and again, beautiful, about him. Yet overall that something managed to very much read as male. So male that her body couldn't help but respond. She subtly tried to shift in her seat to lessen some of the tension that was forming in her lower half. Not that it did any good. It was then she realized she was just ogling him like some depraved loon. He probably thought she was totally weirdo girl now! 

 Is it too late for her to call in sick today as well? When she took a moment to not be so focused on this train wreck of a meeting, she noticed how uncomfortable and fearful he looked. His fists were clenched around the top of his backpack so tightly his knuckles had gone white. She immediately felt terrible for keeping him in suspense. He probably thinks he's in trouble or something and they're waiting for the principle to get here. "You're not in any trouble, William.", she reassures him. He deflates as if someone's taken a ten pound weight off his shoulders, her sense of guilt doubles. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry. What with me being all silento girl over here.", she apologizes. He immediately shakes his head. "T-there's no need f-for that, Miss Summers. I shouldn't h-have, um, presumed-", he attempts to counter her apology with one of his own. Wow, he really is polite, especially compared to his peers. I mean, did you hear that? MISS, not Mrs. You Ancient Dingbat Summers! She mentally vowed to write up every kid who ever bullied this wonderful young man. She raises a hand to silence him, he surprisingly obeys, neat. She feels the smallest rush of power go through her. He actually listened to her, no one EVER listens to her here! "I would've presumed the same thing if I was in your shoes.", she says with an understanding smile. He relaxes into his seat a tiny bit more, she mentally pats herself on the back.

 "W-well then, would you, um, mind me asking as to w-why I've been summoned here?", he wonders in that incredibly sex- CHARMING British accent of his. There's nothing sexy about teenage boys, Hell there's nothing sexy about a lot of the grown men she meets either. Except this one apparently. God she's so screwed and totally going to Hell for thinking things like that. "Your teachers are worried about you.", she somehow manages to carry on the conversation with a straight face. Looks like Xander was wrong about her poker face completely sucking, or maybe it only works when card games aren't involved. "But my grades are perfectly acceptable aren't they?", he rebukes as worry once again clouds his face. "Of course they are! More than perfectly acceptable even, I'm pretty sure you would've given Willow a run for her money if you were in our grade at the time. You just seem to be really shy and in your shell during classes, and between them. So we're here to work on your self esteem, confidence, and social skills. Now this can be a daily or weekly thing, it's really up to you, but if you were to decide to come in daily we'd have to work around your schedule. We couldn't have you missing classes every day. Perhaps during a free period or after school? Which, now that I'm thinking about it, should totally be applied to the weekly option as well. Of course you'll have plenty of time to think about it, and you can always change from daily to weekly or vice versa depending on how you and your teachers think it's going.", she rambles on before she has enough sense to stop talking.

 She blushes as she tries to get over her sudden case of Babbling Buffy Syndrome. Guys don't like it when girls talk too much. Not that she's desperate to get him to like her or anything! That's soooo not the case, and definitely not the like like type of like either, just the plain old regular type of like. That she doesn't care if he feels for her or not. He graces her with a small half smile, and it feels like not all is lost. "As much as I appreciate the teachers', and your, concern.. I don't think self esteem, confidence, or even social skills could help me now.", William sighs out. She feels a pang in her chest at how hopeless he sounds. As if no matter what he's destined to be alone and an outcast. She simply won't stand for this. Rising from her seat, she makes her way over to him. His eyes seem to glaze over as he takes in her form. She mistakes it for zoning out, but as she occupies the seat to the left of him, his all too blue eyes zero in on her thighs. Her thighs that're fully on display thanks to the mini dress she was wearing. Something flickers across his face, so briefly that if she would've blinked, she'd have missed it. Hunger, raw hunger and lust and want that's so strong, she has to chomp down on her lower lip to stop herself from moaning at the sight of it. Her panties are growing uncomfortably wet, she'll have to take them off after he leaves. Making her really wish she'd packed a spare pair in her bag this morning. 

 "Don't give up hope yet. Who knows, in a few weeks you could have more friends than you'd know what to do with.", she breaks the silence to suggest. As soon as she speaks he tears his gaze away from her, his cheeks becoming rosy. It makes him look even more beautiful, which is completely unfair. He lets out a laugh that sounds more self deprecating than anything else. "We both know that's not true, I mean look at me! Would YOU be friends with me?", he questions incredulously. He looks as if he only expects her to say she would because she's a counselor, and it's her job to be nice to students. "I'd do a lot more than be friends with you.", she can't help but mutter to herself. Something she immediately comes to regret when William nearly falls out of his chair from shock. "P-pardon?", he squeaks out with a beet red face. It's then that Buffy considers pulling the fire alarm, or possibly jumping out of the window. Anything to get her out of this situation she's put herself in. She flies up from her seat, mindful to pull down her dress to avoid flashing the poor guy. Not that he looks like he'd mind that too much, what with the way he's staring again. "You should come back, after school! Yeah! I've already taken up so much of your time, which is totally unfair to you and your teachers. So, yeah, see you after school okay?", she quickly word vomits. He very visibly swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to process what she's said.

 He's able to nod his head, barely, as he shakily gets to his feet. He awkwardly holds his backpack in front of his pants as he avoids eye contact with her. She has yet to retreat to the safety of behind her desk. Suddenly overcome with the impulsive urge to know if she really affects him as much as he affects her. Is that bag really hiding what she thinks it's hiding? She steps closer, he tenses up. She decides against rushing him and trying for the element of surprise, she doesn't wanna traumatize him. She eyes the backpack, he notices. He looks like he's tightly coiled and ready to bolt at a moment's notice. "Trust me?", she requests. An awful dumb request actually, asking him to put his blind faith in a stranger he just met. They lock eyes once again, he seems unsure. "Please?", she tries again. He slowly exhales before finally nodding. He relaxes in a way that screams defeat. She reaches forward and slowly takes the bag from him. There it is, even with his pants being a size or two too big, she can still clearly make out his rather impressive erect cock. Geeze, if it's that big now, in few years that thing'll put rulers to shame. She hands him back his belongs, he roughly accepts them from her. His eyes are misty, he's humiliated, and she feels like an idiot. Without thinking of the possible repercussions she lifts up her dress, spreading her legs apart so her fully soaked panties are on display. His eyes widen to the size of golf balls at the sight of her underwear.

 His bag plops onto the floor, he follows a moment after. Letting out a strangled groan as he stares up at her so reverently, she has to remind herself she's not God. "Did I- I mean, I was the cause- erm, me?", he stutters out in a roundabout way of asking if he's the one who made her wet. As if there was any other charming hot guy in that room right now. She stops herself from rolling her eyes. He's insecure, right, that's one of the things they're supposed to work on. Now's not the time for her to be sarcastic. Instead she pulls her dress back down while nodding. "Looks like you weren't the only one affected here.", she admits as she holds a hand out to help him up. He hesitates for a second before clasping a his hand in hers. She feels a jolt of something shoot up her spine. Ignoring it she pulls him up, he's once again holding his backpack out in front of him. "Maybe you should go to the bathroom before heading back to class.", she suggests. He seems pleased and very much relieved at the idea. She wonders if he just plans to splash cold water on his not so little problem and pray it goes away, or if he's gonna go for a more hands on approach. Her mind supplies her with erotic images of what that second option could entail. "I'll write you a note!", she chirps as she essentially runs away from him. She worries about what might happen if he hangs around here any longer. She has no idea how she's meant to survive their after school session today.

 She's so fucked isn't she? With an unsteady hand she drafts out an excuse note. She moves towards the door, he follows. As she hands him the note, she gets an idea. A stupid, risky, very much playing with fire, type idea. He shifts his backpack and the piece of paper to his left hand, fully prepared to open the door to her office and walk away. As soon as his hand touches the doorknob, she slaps hers against the wood of the door, stopping him. He shoots her an inquiring look. She slowly removes her hand, making sure he gets the idea and stays put. Reaching down, she slides off her underwear. Letting them hit the floor before stepping out of them completely. Then using her boot to kick them up and catch them with her hand. William's utterly gob smacked as she leans forward and shoves the balled up undergarment into his pants pocket. "To help speed up your bathroom visit.", she says with a wink as she pulls back. She's surprised he doesn't spontaneously combust on the spot, and no she's not sure if she fully intended for that to be a euphemism or not. "Thank you, Miss Summers.", he says with a strangled cry before sprinting out of there and down the hall. She hopes he doesn't get flagged down by a teacher for running. As she closes the door he left open it hits her like a ton of bricks, he's a student. She just gave her soaked, used underwear, to a student. So he could jack off with it, in the boys' bathroom. On campus, during school hours. 

 She slowly makes her way back to her desk. Sinking down into her seat, she lets out a whine of frustration. She's sick, very very sick. Something's wrong with her. Something HAS to be wrong with her, why else would she do that? No one can ever know what she's done here, what she knows she'll inevitably do later. Her friends wouldn't approve, her surrogate father figure would be so disappointed in her. This is wrong, SHE'S wrong. She's the adult, he's a minor. It's taboo, forbidden, frowned upon. He's not a man. She can already hear Xander disgustingly asking her how she could possibly let William touch her. Anya might understand, and maybe Tara. They've always been so open minded. Not that she'd even consider talking to them about it, talking to ANYONE about it. She's too ashamed, she feels dirty. She couldn't possibly want him, she shouldn't want him, and yet she does. She has to turn him away, stop this before it goes any further. She has to- You're scared. She lifts her head up, when did she bury it in her hands? Ashamed of what you feel. This feels so achingly familiar. You can't tell the ones you love. Like seeing a snippet of a movie you don't recall watching once, years ago when you were young. You know they couldn't deal. Like a dream you've almost completely forgotten, but not quite. Whisper in a dead man's ear. As if this has already happened before, somehow, in some way. Maybe in a past life they were torn apart.

 As ridiculous as that sounds to someone like Buffy, who doesn't believe in reincarnation and all that garbage, but that feels just about right for some dumb reason. If she threw logic and common sense out the window, and focused in on that gut feeling, it would tell her that they've met before. She's knows this young man, or she did at one point in time. This felt like a chance, a good solid second chance, for them. Well, as good of a second chance a twenty-one year old guidance counselor could get with a fifteen year old high schooler. God, what a sucky Romeo and Juliet type storyline. She wonders if past them, if there even IS a past them, had it worse. Although how much worse could they get? It feels silly, to get so worked up over a guy she's just met. Who she feels like she's known for years. She didn't realize what the zing of his touch was at first, but now it's practically staring her straight in the face. Familiarity, the familiarity of touching someone you know but haven't seen for a very long time. "The Powers That Be have a sick sense of humor, don't they?", a voice startles her out of her thoughts. It's another student, not the one she was currently obsessing over. No, this one was Drusilla Keeble. A sixteen year old transfer who showed up last school year. She was a sweet, but often mentally troubled, young lady. "Oh, hey Drusilla. I didn't hear you come in. What can I do for you?", she prompts. If she didn't, the girl would probably stand there for hours lost in her own little world.

 She glides into the room with a grace most ballet dancers don't even possess. "You're right you know. The deck gets shuffled, hands are interchanged, but the players always remain the same.", the girl informs her. She knows deep down that Dru's trying to be helpful in some way, but she could do without all the riddles.. So she's right about something, and there's a deck of cards being shuffled. Hands, not the human kind, at least she thinks not the human kind. Players, the same ones, playing with a deck of cards. Okay, think in cardish terms. Hands are a thing, they're the group of cards you're playing with. Shuffled, interchanged, so all the cards are moving around. The players aren't, none of them have left to do something else, no new players either. Same people, different cards. She's right, same people, different- "You're not actually talking about cards, are you?", she solemnly confirms. The young woman only smiles in response. She turns to leave. Buffy wants to stop her, she has so many questions. Everything's muddled yet never been clearer. The girl knows something crucial, and she needs to find out what that something is. She stops right at the entrance, or exit in her case. Looking back at her counselor from over her shoulder, she gives her one final piece of advice, "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. You let our William burn once, don't make the same mistakes again Slayer.". With that she goes. With that, Miss Summers is left chilled to the bone.

 She doesn't know what it all means, but there are a few things she's sure of. There has to be some truth to Drusilla's words. How could she possibly know what Buffy was tearing herself up over, it's not like she was talking out loud or anything. Hell her face wasn't in view for most of that little meltdown, so the girl being a master face reader was out. Seer. Something happened to William and her, something bad that was her fault. Dust. Now she had the chance to make things right, to choose him. Because that was part of it wasn't it? Don't make the same mistakes, and here she was, fully prepared to choose the safe well traveled road her friends and family had paved for her. A path that he wasn't a part of. Well maybe it's time she took the road less traveled or whatever the saying was. Point is, she's totally gonna unapologetically boink Spike when he comes back for their first-second? official session. Wait, Spike? Who the heck is Spike? She definitely meant William. Huh, weird. She brushes it off, because what else was she supposed to do? She should also thank Drusilla next time she sees her. Though she bets the teen magically already knew how thankful she was for that small push in the right direction. The rest of the day passes by normally. She's jittery and anxious the entire time of course, constantly checking the clock. Counting down the hours until she gets to see him again. He IS still planning on showing up, right?

 She didn't come on too strong did she? What if she scared him off? Him meeting with her is required, sure, but he could always find a way around that. Ten minutes after the final bell rang there was a knock on the door. She told whoever it was to come in. She hoped it was William, but she tried not to get too excited. In order to stave off any disappointment she might feel if it's literally anyone else. Not that she needed to, it was in fact, just the guy she was aching for. He shyly poked only his head through the door, mirroring his actions from his last visit. She couldn't help but giggle at how endearing it seemed. She gestured for him to move completely into her office. He slowly complied, shutting the door so gingerly it barely made a click. He slunk forward, head bowed. The walking definition of the word guilty. "You look like you're in desperate need of an alibi.", she joked as he took his seat. He didn't laugh, or smile, not that she could tell from what very little she could see of his face. "I'm afraid the only thing I'm desperately in need of is your forgiveness.", he sorrowfully replies. Okay now she was really worried. "What do you need my forgiveness for?", she wearily asks. His head drops even lower, he may as well be curled up in a ball at this point. He really looked so small and fragile just then. She got out of her seat, almost as if she was retracing her steps, and took the seat to his left. He jumped when he felt her near, almost as if he could sense her. 

 He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but in her presence. Which ow, kinda a blow to her pride there, but this wasn't about her. "I-I, used erm, um, your undergarments. To, well ah, p-pleasure myself, in t-the um, restrooms.", he admits as if he's committed a cardinal sin. Does masturbation count as a cardinal sin? She supposes that would fall under lust, not that the technicalities matter right now. "Well I'd hope so. I didn't give you my undies just so they could burn a hole in your pocket.", she laughs out. Any trace of worry she was once feeling was washed away from learning that all William was feeling, was a bit of post nut guilt. We've all been there, and it's nothing some reassurance and positive reinforcement can't fix. He shifts in his chair, still refusing to look at her. "But I defiled your property! You surely didn't intend for my spendings to coat the fabric. I tried to wash the substance out as best as I could in the sinks!", he wails. Her eyes widen as she looks to the door, half expecting someone to hear them and call in the SWAT team to bust her for being a perv. "I wanted you to enjoy them, and you did, so no harm done. Besides it's just a pair of underwear, I have tons more at home.", she soothes in a voice much lower than his. He takes the hint, wincing at the realization of how loud and very much not of the subtle he was being. She places a hand on his forearm, and there's that zing again. Connected. She wasn't checking for a reaction from him last time, but this time she watched him intently. 

 He tried to hide it, but he shivered on contact. As if someone had run an ice cube down the center of his back. Did he do that the first time? Then again SHE didn't, she masked the odd sensation pretty damn well. Maybe because this was the unexpected type of physical contact, he didn't have the chance to mask his reaction? Either way, he clearly felt something too. Man Drusilla was really on to something wasn't she? She should introduce them later on, she could be his first new friend here. Family. He looks over at her with a warmth she didn't expect, but wasn't opposed to. No one's ever looked at her like that. "I think we should work on your confidence first, and luckily for you, I happen to know the perfect confidence builder.", she tells him with a mischievous smile. The warmth doesn't disappear from his eyes, but his expression does turn curious. She slides the hand that was resting on him up his arm and onto his shoulder. His eyes widen as his face turns red. She thinks it's one of the cutest things she's ever seen. Her fingertips graze the small patch of skin that's showing on his neck. He feels warm, it's something she wasn't expecting for some reason. Which is dumb because of course he'd be warm, he's not a corpse. Vampire. "M-miss Sum-Summers?", his voice cracks. She smiles at him, his face gets redder. "Confidence starts with how you perceive yourself, and a big part of that is how you look.", she starts off before dropping her hand.

 Only to hoist him up along with her from their seats, with a strength she didn't realize she possessed. Slayer. He drops his bag into the now empty seat before she leads him to the center of the room. Leaving him there she briskly walks to her door to lock it. It's a good thing the door doesn't have a window like some classrooms do, or else any passers by would be really getting an eyeful here in a few minutes. "Miss Summers, what're you doing?", William asks as she returns to him. She ignores his question, he'll figure it out soon enough. "This suit is way too big for you, but that was on purpose wasn't it? To make yourself less noticeable. Although I'm pretty sure dressing more casually would get you the same results.", she observes as she loosens his tie. She removes the strip of fabric, carelessly letting it drop onto the carpet. "Well-", he starts off. Buffy's having none of it though, she knows it'll only be more excuses for his antisocial tendencies. She shushes him by swooping in and giving him a chaste kiss. Which totally works by the way, he's rendered speechless. She smiles triumphantly as she slides his jacket off his limp shoulders. Her glee is short lived though. "Why did you- you kissed me.", he coughs out. He has an awed look on his face, she wonders if she was his first kiss. Momentarily bummed by the passing thought of how he wasn't hers. "Because I wanted to, I mean your lips ARE very kissable.", she perkily says as she's going for the buttons on his vest. 

 "R-really?", he confirms in a hopeful tone of voice. She undoes the last button, he surprises her by shrugging the vest off himself. He looks so vulnerable like that, not smothered under so many layers. Armor. His face open and readable to her. She cups his cheeks with her hands, relishing in how his breath hitches from the simple touch. Her simple touch. "You have no idea just how beautiful you are.", she says as if it's a fact. By the way his facial expression melts, she can tell no one's ever told him something like that before. "Kiss me again, please.", he whispers. She doesn't need to be told twice, she leans into his space to comply with his wishes. This kiss was more passionate, searing. He's stiff as a board as first, too scared of doing something wrong. Then he starts to relax into it, moving against her the tiniest bit. She lets out a pleased sound, trying to encourage him. She lets go of his face to wind her arms around his neck, pulling him flush to her in the process. She can feel his hardness through his pants. Her arousal starts to leak onto her thighs. She feels the lightest touch on her waist. William's hands are barely hovering over her there. She breaks off the kiss long enough to groan out, "Touch me.". Then she dives back in, smashing her lips to his with the most force she's shown yet. She wants him to let go, lose control, get lost in her. He whimpers into her mouth as his hands finally touch her. It feels as if that's where his hands were always meant to be, on her.

 She lets go of his neck as she frantically unbuttons his shirt. The last piece of clothing separating the majority of his skin from hers. He pulls away to help her, and though he tries to hide it, his nerves show on his face. He unclasps the last button with shaking hands, she stops him from removing the garment completely. His head snaps up in alarm, thinking he did something wrong. She smiles at him. "I think I'm the one who's a little over dressed now in comparison, don't you?", she points out while gesturing to her own outfit. He eagerly nods, not being able to stop himself from being a teenage boy. "Help a girl out here?", she offers while shimmying her shoulders. That earns a snort from him. He already looks more relaxed, which is what she wants. He reaches out, fingering the edge of her jacket for a moment. His hands slide over her shoulders as he pushes the leather off her frame. She wiggles her arms and the jacket hits the ground. He analyzes the difference the absence of that layer created. "You're quite beautiful as well. The most gorgeous woman to ever grace this Earth.", he flatters. Okay, if she was wearing panties, they'd definitely be hitting the ground after that line. No, not a line, an honest compliment. That just makes it even better, and the overwhelming urge to boink him even stronger. "Take these off.", she wantonly moans as she's scrambling for his belt. She's so focused on that she misses the look of barely contained restraint showing on William's face. 

 "Are you sure we should be doing this?", he grits out as she finally unbuckles his belt. She pauses momentarily. "Do you not want to?", she asks with concern. She doesn't wanna force him into anything. The age gap and their dynamic as counselor and student already makes it difficult without her being Pushy McGee. He has a pained expression on his face, she steps back in alarm. His hands shoot out to grasp her arms in an almost painful embrace. He yanks her back to where she was, she gasps at the sudden movement. His eyes are almost completely black, his chest heaving as he takes in deep breaths. "I want to, I want you. Oh God how I want you. I don't think is possible for me to not want you.", he pants. Her alarm fades, instead replaced with confusion. "Then why did you stop us?", she questions. She sees that look of hunger barely being held back. Is that what he was afraid of, how she makes him feel? "I don't want to lose control and risk manhandling you, as if you were some cheap whore. You deserve better than that.", he says once his breathing's evened out. She's touched by the sentiment, no guy's ever cared enough to treat her better. Like she's truly something special. Even if they did, she doubted they could do it with the deep tender sincerity William possesses. She shakes her head. "You're seriously the sweetest, most considerate, guy I've ever met. Now that being said, let go and lose control. I want you to be rough with me. Rough isn't always of the bad, as long as it's consensual.", she tells him.

 He looks conflicted when he says, "You don't know what you're asking love.". She melts at the pet name. Then sobers when she notices this is another thing that's tinted with a painful familiarity. Used. "Making love doesn't have to be slow missionary for it to count. Rough can also mean passionate, and passionate is also capable of being sweet.", she softly tells him. He sharply inhales as if he knows why she said that. Can he feel it too? "You want to make-", he's unable to finish his sentence. Not that she has any trouble figuring out where he was going with that. She nods. As if a wall's been broken down, he surges forward with a vigor so unlike what's she's seen from him so far. He kisses her hungrily, letting go of the restraints he put on himself. She moans into his mouth as she pushes back. Doing her damnedest to give as good as she got. Equals. The guttural groan she muffles for him tells her he appreciates it. He spins them around and shoves her backwards, she stumbles but moves willingly. His mouth attacks hers as he moves them towards whatever place he has in mind. She figures out where that place is when the backs of her legs bump up against her desk. He hoists her onto her work space, breaking away from her mouth to nibble along her jawline and down to her neck. She feels a rush of adrenaline from having him so close to her pulse point. It almost feels dangerous. Vamp. He starts giving her the best feeling hickey she's ever been on the receiving end of as she uses her hands and feet to push his pants down.

 Her fingers brush up against the tip of his cock that's poking out from his underwear. He whines due to the contact before gnawing at that sweet spot on her neck. "Ah!", she exclaims as she writhes against him. "You like that?", he growls out. She feels a rush of wetness leave her and coat his boxers. As he feels the moisture seep through he pulls away from her. "What-", she begins to question before he yanks said underwear down. Freeing his huge cock by doing so. She salivates at the sight of it, the entire male race would be jealous if they could see what she's currently seeing. She wants to suck on the head like it's a lollipop. There'll be time for that, and much MUCH more, later. Right now, she's pretty sure she'll die if she doesn't get him inside her right this second. "Fuck me, now, right now.", she commands as she spreads her legs even wider. The invitation all too clear. William's eyes roll to the back of his head at the sight of her glistening pink pussy. She somehow knows if she doesn't stop him he'll drop to his knees to eat her out, and if that happens they'll be here all night. She'd rather not risk getting locked in here with him, that's not something she could easily explain away. "Later, you can do that later I promise. Right now I NEED you inside me, filling me up in a way only you possibly could.", she begs. In a split second she's ripped from her spot on the desk, spun around so her back is facing him, and her upper body is pushed onto the piece of furniture.  

 She's bent over her desk, her arms bracing either side of her as he hikes up her dress. Not that there was much hiking left to do, her ass was already in full view. "God you're perfect.", he whispers as he strokes her ass. She pushes back against him with a small whine. He chuckles before delivering a sharp smack to her backside. She cries out from the stinging sensation and pleasure it causes. "Careful kitten, we wouldn't want any lingering students or staff to overhear how much you like getting your perfect little arse smacked by yours truly.", William smugly chides. Well look at that, who knew this is what was hiding under all that proper Britishness. Spike. She doesn't have time to ponder his sudden boom of confidence, not with him raining several hits down on each ass cheek. She clamps a hand over her mouth to stop her moans. She wonders how red and sore her ass'll be after this, she doesn't mind no matter the outcome. She thinks it'd be nice, to have a reminder of him and what they did here. For her flesh to be sensitive and tender every time she sits down or moves. It sounds more enjoyable than she thought it would. After he's done he rubs away the burning sensation. "You did so good baby.", he reassures her. Taking that as the sign that the coast is clear, she removes her hand from her mouth. He kicks her feet further apart from each other, widening her stance. She shivers in anticipation. "Look at how wet you are for me, you're positively dripping.", he voices his approval as he strokes her thighs. 

 She's desperate for some kind of friction at this point. She gyrates her hips, but all she ends up doing is humping the air. Which isn't very satisfying in the least. He chuckles, she's starting to get annoyed. That annoyance is short lived as she feels something rub against her folds. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to deduce what that something is, she's delighted. Trying to impale herself on him, she fails as he holds her in place. That delight's replaced with horny frustration. In a slow thrusting motion, he rubs himself against her. Stimulating her clit on every stroke. She forgets herself, moaning and urging him to move faster. He grips her ponytail in his right hand, yanking it towards himself so her head snaps back. She gazes up at him as he lines himself up at her entrance. "I love you.", Buffy finds herself saying. A brief flash of a memory that never existed appears, then disappears, as quickly as it came to her. Fire. So many choked up emotions make themselves known on William's face. He closes his left hand over her mouth before slamming himself fully into her, not stopping until he was balls deep. "No you don't, but thanks for saying it.", he groaned out as he muffled her scream. Live. She shook her head, biting down on his hand until he drew it back with a hiss. She tasted his blood in her mouth, it felt wrong, like it should be the other way around. "Yes I do, and you have to believe me this time.", she argued. 

 She didn't know where the 'this time' part of that came from, but it felt right. That's was all that mattered wasn't it? Recalling her earlier conversation with Dru, she figured out where the 'this time' part came from. They manage to make eye contact in this position, his gaze is searching. Trying to find the lie that isn't there. Then he's crying, so is she. "I believe you, and I love you too. So bloody much.", he sobs before he starts to move slowly. Fixed. It was clear he was trying to stop himself from finishing prematurely. That was understandable, this was his first time after all. She guesses at least, she'll have to ask him about that later. He starts to slam into her, using more strength but keeping the pace the same. When her moans grow a little too loud for what they were trying to do there, his hand is back over her mouth. She doesn't bite it this time, instead licking at the wound as her form of an apology. He starts to get a better handle on himself, picking up the pace as he somehow manages to find that special spot inside of her without even trying. His thrusts are border lining brutal as the desk squeaks under the pressure. Buffy briefly worries about breaking it, but brushes the thought off. Breaking furniture during sex only happens in movies and books. Building. Yet that's another familiar forgotten event that's never happened. She's screaming, so much so that it doesn't register to her that she's still making sounds. 

 It's a good thing that at least William's self aware, enough so for the both of them. The pressure's building, the pleasure nearing unbearable, and then she's screaming his name into his hand as she's cumming all over his cock. Her walls fluttering around and strangling the appendage. He lurches forward, biting down on her neck as he empties himself inside of her. His bite forcing her to cum for a second time. His teeth break the skin as she rides through the aftershocks. He laps up the tiny bit of blood he drew before letting go and pulling out of her. She sighs at the feeling, wishing he could stay in her forever. Speaking of things not staying in forever, she can already feel his cum starting to leak out of her. She really hopes it doesn't ruin her boots. "Bloody hell.", she hears William whine from behind her. She twists her upper half around to catch him staring his cum leaving her hole. Which was apparently a powerful enough sight to get him hard again. Stamina. "Already up for another round?", she jokes. He gives his cock, that's still covered in her juices, a good stroke. "Oh baby, you have no idea.", he agrees. Crypt. The sight gives her the strongest urge to find the nearest king sized bed, slap some red silk sheets onto that sucker, and chain him to the posts until they're both fully spent. A weirdly specific thought, she knows, but she's just rolling with it at this point. She shakily pushes herself up to a standing position, just in time too. 

 Seeing as how the two back legs of her desk suddenly snapped, off balancing the hunk of wood. Sending it toppling over: folders, paperwork, computer, and all. "Crap!", she curses as she takes in the damage. "I'm terribly sorry for destroying yet another piece of your property, Miss Summers.", William apologizes. She straightens out her dress before going over to fetch her discarded coat. "Don't be, that rickety thing was old anyway. Principal Wood's owed me a new one for a while now. Don't worry yourself with picking up any of that stuff either, that's someone else's problem tomorrow. What you SHOULD worry about right now is getting dressed, so we can get outta here and go somewhere more private.", she tells him as she shrugs her jacket on. He scrambles to pull up his underwear and pants, buckling his belt with rapid shaky movements. Buffy takes her time strolling to the back table behind her former desk to gather her purse. Giving him the opportunity to stack those layers of fabric back on. "You know you really should start getting clothes that actually fit you.", she comments as she watches him go for his own bag. She struts over to him, and together they lock up her office. "Why Miss Summers, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost think you want me in tighter clothing to better admire my tight, hot, little body.", he says with a suggestive leer. She playfully rolls her eyes as they make their way out of the building. 

 Praying that her arousal won't start dripping down her legs again while they're out in public. "You've seen my cunt, I think it's acceptable for you to call me Buffy. Also, while getting a better glimpse that what you've got hiding under there is a major plus, I'm seriously trying to help you as a guidance counselor. Also also, is anyone coming by to pick you up, or can I sneak you outta here without having to dodge the parentals?", she questions as they start wandering towards her car in the parking lot. "Very well, Miss Buffy-", she's pretty sure he starts off saying just to be a smartass. "Oh shut up!", she laughs as she lightly swats at his arm. He jumps out of the way, laughing along with her. Looking more happy and carefree than she's ever seen him be. Granted they've only spent like a couple of hours together max, and half of that was them either talking about not so fun things or fucking. "Okay then, BUFFY. I'll once again state that I'm not sure how my clothing choices will improve my school life, but if you insist, I'll get a few new things in a size down. As for my returning home, I usually walk or take the bus.", he relents. She eyes sparkle as soon as she hears the word buy. They reach her car, he opens her door for her as soon as she unlocks the vehicle. "Perfect, we'll go shopping later this week! Or on the weekend if that's easier. Not today though, we have plans for the rest of the afternoon.", she excitedly tells him before peeling out of the parking lot in search for a halfway decent motel.