Chapter 7
In all the many ways that William had imagined his first experience with a girl would go, his lack of first-hand knowledge had robbed him of the truth. His mind would create fantastic scenery stolen from movies and books, women with unrealistic physiques, and blurry images to fill in the pieces of things he did not know. For instance, how it felt to kiss someone. How wet and mushy and hot and shivery every caress could be. How her breath would feel as it tickled his cheek when she exhaled through her nose. How her fingernails tracing the shell of his ear could make his butt clench so he didn’t squeal like a girl. How delicate and feminine and simply ethereal she was, lying beneath him, wanting his kisses. Wanting.
He thought he was crushing her but if he tried to move, she would wrap her legs and arms around him and kiss him deeper. He didn’t try to move again.
After so many long moments on his bedroom floor with Buffy, growing accustomed to this new sensation of kissing and finding a rhythm they both liked, he grew confident to try more. To trace her lips slowly with the tip of his tongue before dipping it inside and pressing his body into hers. Her reaction almost turned him into an animal. She started breathing shallowly, shuddering and whimpering beneath him, and when his erection grew urgent between her thighs, relishing the warmth he found there and pressing hard, she moaned the loudest he’d heard yet. He had to bite her shoulder to keep from doing the same, but that seemed only to encourage her to moan louder.
“William,” she said breathily, squeezing her legs around his hips and raking her hands down his back.
He exhaled thickly against her neck before he kissed her there, desperate to rein in the urge to tear her clothes off. She was crossing a line with those womanly noises, noises that were making him feel rather masculine and important and as if he were the type of man who knew what he was doing.
“Say something,” she said, whimpering as he kissed her throat.
He lifted his head to stare into her glassy eyes. “What?”
“Talk to me.” It was awfully hard to pay attention to what she wanted when she was dragging her heels up the backs of his thighs. He blinked slowly, his mouth dropping open, and he shivered when her nails scratched his ear again. What was with the ears? She’d nibbled and scratched and sucked on them and every time he felt his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
“Please?” she was saying. “I love your voice.”
She loved his…well, that explained the attack after pulchritudinous. He smiled a bit.
“You do?”
She bit her swollen, delicious bottom lip and nodded. “I love listening to you in Sociology when you correct the professor. It’s sexy.”
Well.
“Your kiss is empyrean,” he said softly, pressing his lips to hers, “paradisiacal.” He smiled when she clutched his shoulders and whimpered. He flicked his tongue up the side of her neck. “Provocatively seraphic.”
“Oh, God,” she whispered, arching her neck for easier access. “If you speak another language I’m going to die.”
“Je pourrais vivre dans ton parfum°,” he said thick and low, thanking his mother for forcing him to take French lessons for so many years. Never did he think it would garner such a sultry response. “Hohh,” he said abruptly when she lifted her hips and bucked against his erection.
“More,” she pleaded, holding his head against the crook of her neck. He sucked on the flesh where her shoulder joined her neck as he tried to calm down, difficult with all that whimpering and mewling going on beneath him.
“Tu penses que je ne suis qu’un garçon¹.” Speaking in another language allowed him to say things he never, ever would say to her in English. Things he’d be too afraid to say. It gave him the aplomb to continue and her reaction was certainly fanning the fire within him. He bravely slid one hand up the outside of her leg, pushing up the hem of her dress, until he reached her hipbone. “Je veux te prouver que c’est faux².”
As his mouth trailed a path to the other side of her neck, his hand smoothed over her hip and onto her abdomen, teasing the waistband of her panties. He didn’t know he was teasing, though. He was working up the nerve and Buffy was wiggling and panting beneath him, moving her hands over his arms and shoulders.
In a voice barely over a whisper, he murmured over her ear, “Ceci est un rêve³.” Then he slid his hand down the front of her panties, gasping thickly when he felt the dewy folds of her pussy for the first time, suddenly unsure how to move forward. But she’d thrown her head back and dropped her arms high above her, crying his name. “Ceci est un rêve,” he said again, giving her an experimental rub when his middle finger found a slick channel that cradled his efforts perfectly.
“Ohh,” she cried. Arched her back and thrust against his hand.
He lifted off of her and rolled to the side so that he could appreciate her form as well as what he was doing. She was fully clothed and yet the sight of his hand moving underneath her tiny black panties was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Until he slowly slid a finger inside her and she opened her eyes and let out a choked sob. She was glorious. Her shiny, smooth thighs dropping wider for him, her breasts tempting him as she heaved large gulps of air, and her eyes finally landing on his, was enough to make him kiss her once more, drive his finger further inside and moan at the feel of her drenching him.
As his tongue and lips swallowed her cries, he sped up the movement of his hand, remembering all the articles he’d read in Cosmo telling him to find the pelvic bone with two fingers, tilt upward and tug with every stroke.
“Ohmigod!” She tore her mouth away from his and he watched her eyes water and her mouth drop open. She propped herself up on her elbows to watch, gasping and making this strange sort of vibrating, wailing noise, which he figured was from the speed of his hand and then she was shouting so loud he was afraid the Quad manager was going to tear down his door. All he could do was watch her in awe, kiss her shoulder and urge her forward as she let go. When he thought for sure she couldn’t get any louder, he couldn’t help himself, and he leaned forward and bit down on her nipple over her dress.
Her hand fisted through his hair and pulled on his curls tightly and he felt her clenching around his fingers. Just to see her reaction, he said, “Je me souviendrai de ceci pour le reste de ma vie⁴.” She shouted once more and it might have been a curse word but it was barely coherent enough for him to decipher.
Buffy giggled silkily and collapsed on her back, cooing when he removed his fingers and fixed her dress. She was smiling drunkenly, her eyes half closed and her cheeks flushed and perfect. He’d just made her come. First try. He was too proud of himself to care about his own predicament, which he gathered would be taken care of post-haste once she left this evening.
“You are an evil, evil, man.” She grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him hard, rolling onto her side and twining her legs with his.
“How so?” He just wanted to hear her say it. God, he needed to hear her say it, just so he had something to add to his fantasies later that evening.
“Luring me into your talented hands with French and pretty words.”
“I guarantee you, it was unintentional,” he said, his eyebrows struggling to meet his hairline. “Because I am so, so far from being seductive it’s not even funny.”
“I disagree,” she said, tracing his Adam’s apple with her tongue before she sucked it into her mouth. Which was awfully rude. “I bet you’ve won lots of girls that way.”
He laughed quietly, which was a nice distraction from the moan that wanted to break free when she kept kissing him on his neck. “Never won a single girl before today.”
And he’d really just said that out loud. She pulled away from him and he couldn’t open his eyes. Wouldn’t, not when he knew the expression she wore.
“Are you serious?”
He opened one eye, then the other when he saw that she was smiling in disbelief. “Yeah.” He sighed. “You’re…sort of…um. Well. You know.”
She gasped. “Am I the first girl you’ve…well, touched?”
“That’s an understatement. I’ve never even had a girlfriend or…held hands or anything please God don’t make fun of me.”
She giggled and grabbed his hand to wrap it around her waist. “I think you’re a liar.”
He shook his head. “Not lying. You can ask Wes and Andrew. I could barely speak to you at first. That’s always how it always happened when I tried in the past.”
She bit her lip again and her eyes were still shining in the afterglow. He really wished he had a camera, just so he had proof that he’d made a girl look at him that way, that he’d made Buffy look at him that way.
“Then I’m one lucky girl.”
She pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist, sitting up and looking down at him. He groaned when she wiggled to get more comfortable, unknowingly—or maybe not—nudging his erection.
“I think I’m the lucky one.” He smiled, letting his hands rest on her thighs as his eyes drank her image.
“Oh, no. Because you see…that? What you just did? Was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
He grinned from ear to ear. “Really?”
She nodded. “And if that was your first time doing it…” She actually shivered and he felt it in his very bones. And boner. “So yeah, I’m the lucky one.”
“Then I suppose you’d say yes if I asked you out again.”
Buffy giggled and leaned forward to kiss him. “I would have even if we hadn’t come back here.”
He sighed through his smile, hoping he never woke up from this incredible dream. But he had to test the waters now. If she still hung on after this, he was sure he’d be planning their wedding in no time. He patted her on the thighs and said, “Up.”
She frowned, but did as he asked, moving off of him so he could stand up. He sensed the feel of her eyes boring into his back as he walked to his closet and shut the door almost all the way behind him.
“There’s something about me you should know, Buffy,” he said to her as he rummaged through the items he’d crammed in there before he took off his shirt.
“Are you a serial killer?”
“The worst. I’ll be hacking you to bits in a minute,” he called out to her, smiling as he took off his jeans and boots.
“Can you at least leave my face alone? My mom would want an open casket.”
“I’d never tarnish your pretty face, love. Can’t speak for the rest of you. Mind laying out a tarp on the floor? I’d hate to get blood everywhere.”
He heard her giggling from inside his bedroom. “You’re a thoughtful murderer.”
Then he was ready to emerge and he had to take a moment to inhale, hold it for the count of five, and then open the door. Her hands went to cover her mouth and her eyes were the size of Texas.
“Oh my God.”
“That’s right, Buffy. I have a Spock costume. And I wear it twice a year. On purpose.” He put his hands on his hips and gave her a tight-lipped smile, waiting for her to start laughing or running for the hills.
She dropped her hands and bit her lip as she started to giggle.
“See? I knew it!” He started to turn away but she stopped him.
“No! No, William, come back! Come back.”
He turned around, his expression morose and dejected, but she was still smiling. “I go to Sci-fi conventions and we all dress up. I know it’s stupid but we have fun and—”
“Do you have the ears, too?”
“What?”
“The ears. Spock is Volcanic or Volsomething, right? They have those pointy ears.”
He was impressed she even attempted to name his hero’s race. “He’s half-Vulcan.”
“Well, whatever. You know what I mean. Do you have them?”
“Of course I have the bloody ears. Wouldn’t be Spock without them, would I?”
“Put them on.” She sat on her knees and smiled. “Please?”
“Is this a trick? Get me all dolled up and then point and laugh?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No! I promise. I just want to see the entire thing. The whole shebang. And I know you have other costumes in there.”
He snorted a laugh. “Yeah.”
“You’re putting them all on for me.”
“What?” He was laughing as he slipped on the Spock ears that he kept in his desk drawer to wear at leisure, which he did often. He felt as if he’d gone to some Bizarro-World where Buffy wasn’t laughing at him and actually encouraging him to show what a loser he was.
“You heard me. I want a fashion show.”
Of course he’d do whatever she asked, but he’d wised up to a few things. He could try to get something out of this. “And what will you do for me if I give you a show?”
She stood up and walked over to him slowly, mischief dancing in her eyes, and he gulped when she placed one hand on his chest, leaned forward and whispered, “I have a Princess Leia bikini that I wore for Halloween two years ago.”
His heart was going to burst from all that damn pounding. Those words were like the Holy Grail to a man like William. She’d said the phrase that turned him into a caveman. He crashed his lips against hers, wrapped his arms around her waist, spun them around and pressed her against the wall. He lifted her up so he could grind against her properly, devouring her mouth with his.
“Oh, William,” she gasped as his hands teased her thighs and his teeth nibbled on her neck.
Buffy came twice that evening, even though he was wearing Spock ears. Or maybe even because of them.
* * *
° I could live in your scent.
¹ You think I am just a boy.
² I hope to prove you wrong.
³ This is a dream.
⁴ I will always remember this for the rest of my life.
A/N: Thanks to Val for the Frenchy help! 🙂