Chapter 18: Psalms and Alms
“This was a bad idea.”
William’s hands dropped from the buttons on Buffy’s top, pulling his lips away from her neck and sighed. “We don’t have to…”
“No,” she grabbed his hands to keep him from retreating, forcing him to look her in the eye. “I want to. It’s just that—”
“It’s hard?” he smiled sadly at her, ducking his head when she nodded.
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“I know,” he whispered, pulling her into a tight embrace, inhaling her hair for the millionth time that evening. He’d never get enough of her smell; never be able memorize its uniqueness to last him for the long span of time he’d be away from her. “I don’t either.”
“I just don’t want it to be the last time,” she said in a tiny voice. When she sniffled against his shoulder, he knew she was crying. He wouldn’t pull away to see, he didn’t need to. He held her tighter.
“It won’t be. Don’t think things like that.”
“How can I not? You’ve been so…back and forth the last few days and I don’t know what’s going to happen when you’re gone.”
To that, he did pull back, but kept a firm hold around her waist as he looked at her earnestly. “I love you, Buffy. I’m sorry I’ve been giving you mixed signals but you’ve got to know where my head’s been these last few days. I’d even planned to kidnap you and take you to Antarctica.”
She giggled softly and he kissed her forehead. “It’s too cold there.”
“We’d keep each other warm. I’d build us one of those igloos, kill a Kodiak and make furry blankets. Bet you’d be cute in a bear suit.”
Buffy laughed. “Bears don’t live in Antarctica.”
“Oh, right. The other place then. Alaska. Knew it was an A name.”
Her cheek was nestled in his throat, her hands trailing down the smooth skin of his back and though she needed the confirmation of his love through intimacy, somehow, standing in the middle of the hotel room while he held her was bringing her a comfort she didn’t know he could give her.
She knew what he was doing. She knew his decision to leave the church was the best one he could make but it didn’t mean that it hurt any less. She pressed her thumb on the back of the band around her ring finger and twirled it from side to side. Why had he given that to her if he didn’t love her? What did it mean to him?
“Look at me,” he said finally, tucking his hand beneath her chin. Those eyes of hers would haunt him for the rest of his life. “I don’t regret a single day I’ve been with you. Not one.” His hands were smoothing down her hair. Then he spoke as if reading her previous thoughts. “That ring means that I belong to you, Buffy. I’m yours. But you’ve got to believe in me, too. Have faith that I’ll be there in the end, because I will. Just have to lay low for a few months and then,” he sighed when her eyes rimmed with tears. “I know,” he said in a pained voice and kissed her, sucked the essence of Buffy through his lips, feeling his own tears prickling the backs of his eyes. He supposed this was his punishment. He’d crossed the line all those months back, allowed himself to act on his baser urges and take what he wanted and now he was suffering for having blasphemed in the eyes of God. He’d take the punishment, and it was nothing if in the end he could have this again. If after he’d served his time, Buffy would be waiting for him on the other side, then it would have been worth it.
How her shirt had finally been removed, neither of them knew but he was grateful that his hands could finally map out the expanse of her chest, tugging the straps of her bra down to expose her nipples. She gasped into his mouth when his thumb and forefinger pinched them lightly. Buffy was always so responsive to him, felt every touch, every caress with such passion that it was enough to make a man smile with pride. But he wasn’t smiling this time. This wasn’t about stroking his ego or trying to drive her over the edge. This was a parting gift for both of them, something to last during those lonely nights that were sure to come, burning the image of one another into their skin, savoring it until it could go on no more.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up off the ground, bringing her breasts to his mouth so he could worship them properly as he walked them to the bed. Her hands dug into his shoulders as his tongue traced the contours of her areola before flicking gently against a rosy peak and sucking it into his mouth. She felt the soft sheets of the mattress at her back and slowly depressed into the bed, sighing as he reached behind her to unhook her bra and pull it off completely. He was on his knees, pulling her thighs around his waist as he started unzipping her skirt.
“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are, Buffy?”
“A few times,” she smiled coyly, kicking off her shoes and lifting her hips so he could pull her skirt off. “But a girl doesn’t get tired of hearing it.”
“You are,” he kissed her ankle and slung it over his shoulder as he rubbed her calf. “You’re gorgeous. Drive me insane, you do.”
His large hands caressed her stomach, trailing down to the edge of her panties. He slid those off too, taking his time to reveal the shaved mound that he knew was already wet for him. William moved her legs to the side and ghosted his hands over her naked body from her head to her toes. She thought back to the time that seemed so long ago, when he’d taken her to his room in his office and tried desperately to restrain himself from the inevitable tenderness and emotions he was already feeling for her. How he’d struggled then, fought the feelings inside of him, only to break down and ask her to come back, come away with him, allow him to fall even deeper. But he didn’t restrain himself now. He never would again.
The tips of his fingers left a trail of goose bumps wherever he touched her, making her squirm and writhe on the bed, arch and move into his touch for more but he never relented his reverent exploration. “No one touches you but me,” he said softly, though the commanding tone in his voice brooked no argument, no doubt that he was absolutely serious.
As if she’d want anyone else.
“No one.”
A ragged and tortured sigh ripped from his throat and he looked away, bringing his hands to his belt buckle.
“William?”
He shook his head and she knew he was fighting off tears, distracting his bubbling sorrow by undressing himself. Then he was naked and crawling over her, kissing her thighs, her mons, her stomach, each tiny nipple that was begging for attention, her collarbone and then her throat, moaning as he sucked gently on her flesh and lifted her thighs to settle between them. “Please, Buffy.”
She almost cried at the sound of his voice, so small and afraid of her rejection. Perhaps he was more afraid of losing her than she was of him. The thought seemed ridiculous to her, but then again, she hadn’t really taken much thought to get to know him, not really, not all the little quirks and idiosyncrasies that a lover should know. Maybe she had been selfish. She regretted that she’d taken him for granted, somehow convinced herself that he’d always be there and now that he wasn’t going to be, she struggled to remember as much as she could, suddenly wanting to memorize every inch, every soft sigh and moan of pleasure, every quirk of his eyebrow. He was asking something of her and she didn’t know what he wanted, and so she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and cried.
He knew so much about her, at least the things that were most private, her pains, her sorrows, how to make her come, how to bring her pleasure, how to make her love him. And she did. Now, she did. With his naked body pressed against hers, crying into his shoulder and holding his trembling body, she knew she loved him. But she couldn’t say it, not when it would sound like a token phrase married with a sad goodbye. He wouldn’t believe her anyhow. She’d wait.
She’d tell him when he came back. When everything was as it should be again and he was in her arms forever. She’d tell him then.
“Please,” he said again and she looked at him, her breath catching in her throat as she looked at his blood shot, watery eyes. “I need…”
“What, what do you need?”
He took one of her hands and placed it on his chest and she cried harder, realizing she hadn’t even touched him. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered against his lips, clutching him as she swallowed his pained moan and rolled them over to straddle his waist. His hands cupped her face and he closed his eyes when her hair fell around his cheeks and neck. “I’m so sorry,” she said again and kissed his throat, his chest, trailed her hands down his stomach as her own twisted in knots. She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to cry, not while he was here with her. He was here now and she wouldn’t ruin it with tears.
She felt his fingers massage her scalp as she kissed the curls that trailed from his navel to his shaft, inhaling his scent. One hand pressed his cock against his stomach while the other gently scratched his groin, tracing the soft flesh of his testicles and she smiled when she heard him chuckle. She looked up at him and he tucked a pillow between his cheek and shoulder, tilting his head to the side with a sweet smile as he watched her. How had she not done this before, this silent study of his sex? She would do it now. She would. Especially if it made him look that incandescently happy, if it took away the pained expression from moments before.
“You’re beautiful, too,” she smiled, resting her cheek on his thigh as her nails grazed over the veins on his shaft, dropping to his testicles to feel their weight.
“Hardly,” he laughed. “But feel free to express yourself the way you have been, kitten.”
She didn’t have to look to know he was smirking. Maybe she had paid attention after all. When her hand wrapped around the head, he hissed and she licked his balls, gently sucking them into her mouth as her hand encircled his cock and gently pulled. The hand in her hair tightened and she licked the base of his penis, wrapped her mouth around the side and moved to the tip, engulfing the head with a moan. He whispered her name and she’d never forget the way he sounded then, how grateful he was for her, how much he really did love her. Every slide of her lips down his thick shaft made her wetter and made him unable to breathe. She was making love to his cock with her mouth, slowly swallowing around him, squeezing and pumping with her hand, pulling her lips away to bite and nip at his thighs and lick his testicles and William was about to lose his mind.
“Buffy, I need you.”
“Don’t want to stop,” she pouted and slid her mouth all the way down.
“Then slide those legs up here,” he panted. “Now. Right now.”
She smiled and turned on the bed, placing her legs on either side of his face and she squealed around his cock as his tongue flicked against her clit. He hummed against her and she knew he was closing his eyes, savoring her taste. He always did. William’s hands were gently squeezing her ass, spreading her open to trace her opening with his tongue. She sped up the movement of her hand around his shaft, panting when she knew what was coming. But instead of his tongue, his finger pushed inside her and she moaned, unable to move for a moment as his lips latched onto her clit and his finger pumped inside her, then he added another and her hips rocked against him, her hands gripped his thighs and she’d almost forgotten him completely.
Then he spanked her ass with his hand and she giggled, quickly going back to sucking and pumping him, smiling around him when he said, “That’s better,” and dove in for more.
It wasn’t enough. No matter how hard he thrust into her mouth or how expertly he sucked her pussy, it wasn’t enough. She felt his grip on her ass tighten and then he moved his hands to her legs and flipped her over, quickly moving to settle between her thighs and he kissed her right as he slid inside.
They both cried out and were frozen still, taking a moment to enjoy their union before they started moving. Having William inside of her was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. It wasn’t just his cock inside her, it was him. He made love to her in such a way, filled her up with his love, poured himself inside her without care of ever returning. This time was no different, and his hands swept her hair out of her face and he looked down at her with a myriad of emotions. It was overwhelming; the feeling increased tenfold when he began to move inside her, always searching her eyes for something, pleading somehow. She wondered if he ever found it.
They were both so close already, that slow tortuous crawl of a climax having moved to a sprint even though they moved together languidly. Not yet, not yet. They wanted it to last and William pulled out, stilling his hips above hers with just the tip of his cock inside her, panting as he tried to gain control. She kissed his eyelids, his chin, moved her hands down his back and waited. His mouth latched onto hers, his tongue gliding against hers, keeping the palms of his hands flat on the mattress as he restrained himself from pounding her into the bed. The kiss soon turned desperate, teeth clashing against teeth, sucking and tasting, feasting; and then he thrust inside her and they couldn’t stop if they wanted to. It was messy, clumsy, as if they’d been without it for years and that worry; that fear that it might be the last time was matched only by the sheer desire and passion that was evident every time they did this.
He tore through her, thrust so hard she could feel it in her throat, he gripped the headboard above her and drove even further, dipping his head to sup from her mouth and cheeks, drink in her image and she clung to him like a lifeline. William’s expression was almost apologetic but he had nothing to be sorry about. She wanted all of him, his passion, his fury, his love, his cock, and she wanted it to touch every cell of her body and he was achieving it beautifully, so beautifully she almost cried again. Instead, she cried out his name as her orgasm slammed into her from out of nowhere. He cooed and rumbled against her lips, begging her for more, asking her to squeeze the life out of him, drench him, scream louder, wake the neighbors, and fuck him until he died from it. She was all too happy to oblige and she shouted so loud her throat ran dry, squeezed him so hard he shouted with his own release, sucked on his tongue, fisted his hair and trembled, quaked and jerked beneath him as his hips commanded more. His cock teased the whimpering cries of her pussy, chided it for backing out early and slammed into her again and again until it submitted once more. She lost count of how many times she’d fluttered and released around him, could care less that she was limp from her head to her toes. Cried, finally, when he told her how much he loved her, kissed the corners of her eyes and slowed his pace. His face was in Buffy’s neck as his cock easily glided in and out of her, not seeking pleasure but unable to pull away. Never wanting to pull away.
“I love you, Buffy,” he whispered in her ear, tucking his arms beneath her sated body to hold her, sighing contentedly when she banded her arms around his neck.
She wanted his weight on her, all of it. Luckily, he had no intentions of moving. No matter how long they forced their bodies to resist the pull of sleep, it was a useless effort. The day had been long, emotional, and exhausting. With his cock still buried inside her and his body pressed on top of hers, they fell asleep.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They were stopped a few blocks from the school, the engine of William’s Desoto idling at a low purr, both of them staring out of the windshield. This was it, the last time they would be alone. Buffy never asked why he hadn’t packed his belongings into the car and left them in the hotel. She knew he wouldn’t be staying at the school. The finality of that almost broke her, but she’d stayed strong and calm, mirroring whatever emotion he was willing to show, which turned out to only be a sad acceptance. But he’d pulled the car over and she wondered why he’d been silent for almost ten minutes.
“Are you all right?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I’m not bloody all right.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Why can’t you graduate now?” he said with a sad smile. “You could be like Doogie Howser or somethin’.”
“First of all, he was a total nerd and second of all, I suck at biology.”
He laughed quietly and leaned back in his seat. “You’re calm.”
“Not really,” she said honestly, twirling the ring he gave her with her thumb. “I’ll probably break down once you leave.”
“This is a bit melodramatic, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t help but smile at his joke. It did feel like a bad soap opera at times, but she’d also never experienced anything this powerful with another person, never felt like she’d die without them, not like she felt with William. “Can you write to me?”
“I was thinkin’ about that, actually. As long as I don’t put my name anywhere, they won’t know it’s me, right?”
“How will I know it’s from you?”
He pursed his lips and stared at her incredulously.
“Ok, ok,” she sighed. “Maybe we’ll use a nickname.”
“I’ll think of somethin’ clever.”
He was prolonging the inevitable with small talk. Next, he’d be asking her what she thought about foreign policy, just to hear the sound of her voice. “I need your lips right now,” he said with closed eyes. “Right here,” he pointed to his mouth.
She immediately leaned over the seat and kissed him, pulling away before their lighthearted mood turned into tears. They’d never pull this off if they were crying, and even if they weren’t, she still didn’t know how she’d pull it off. She missed him already.
He sighed with recognition, looking at her for another moment and put the car in drive.
When they arrived at the school and parked the car, they were both silent. The building loomed over them like a prison, a dark cloud that would snuff out whatever happiness they’d shared with one another. No turning back now. As her hand reached for the door handle, he said, “Might be best if you just walk on in without me. Any teenager on a trip with her teacher would be desperate to get away.”
She nodded. “Ok.”
“Buffy…”
“I know.”
He watched her get out of the car and walk to the back to retrieve her suitcase. He reached down between the seat and the door and lifted the trunk latch for her, staring out the windshield. He could do this. He would. With a long sigh, he got out of the car and smiled at her platonically, feeling sick as he did so. The sisters were already coming out of the front entrance, whispering to one another with confused expressions.
“Sorry we had to cut it short, Miss Summers.”
“It’s ok, Father William. I understand.”
“Merry Christmas.”
She picked up her suitcase and looked away. “Yup, you too. I’ll see you later.”
When Buffy walked towards the student housing, away from him, his heart clenched tight in his chest, but his expression remained stoic as he walked in the opposite direction towards the offices and the sisters who were smiling warmly at him. That would be the last time he’d see Buffy Summers. The image of her long blonde hair shining as she walked into the building, her sad smile when she looked over her shoulder at him; that image would stay with him forever. He wouldn’t see her again for six months.
“Father William,” Sister Margaret said happily. “You’re back so soon!”
“Had a bit of car trouble on the way to my father’s. It wasn’t such a merry holiday,” he forced a laugh.
“Oh,” she said with a smile to another sister, “we were wondering what happened to you when we called Mr. Giles. Where are your things? We’ll help you inside.”
“About that,” he said as he walked inside. “There’s been a change of plans.”
Sister Margaret looked to Sister Janet and Sister Lucy, both of them curious as they followed him indoors.
“Is everything all right?”
“We’ll see,” he smiled. “I’ll be meeting with the Diocese later this afternoon but I want you all to know that…” his mouth twisted and he blinked rapidly, suddenly overcome with emotion. These women had been his only friends for eight years now and he’d never see them again. They looked at him with such concern, wanting nothing more than to comfort him. He’d lied to them all. “I wanted you to know first that I won’t be your priest any longer. I’m sorry.” And no matter how hard he’d tried to keep it inside, the fear of losing the only woman he’d ever loved, his betrayal to the women that were imploring him for answers, his vows which he was about to break, no matter how hard he clung to his resolve, Father William broke down in tears.