Chapter 6: What Now?
Father William was known for many things at the all-girls Catholic boarding school. First and foremost, he was a man of God. Second was his passion for literature, third was his strict rules during class, then there was his love of spicy food which he often ate at his desk while students were reading, his compassion for mankind, intolerance of tardiness, frantic pacing about the room when he spoke of something he was passionate about, and finally his ability to juggle a million different tasks at once. But one thing he was not known for was deceit and after the past three weeks, he’d worked it into an art form.
This newfound ability to cover his own ass with blatant lies was what aided him in convincing the Sisters that Buffy would be perfectly safe in his charge over the holidays. He used her depression to their advantage, telling the Sisters that it was a travesty that Buffy would have to spend the holidays alone without family and that he would take her to visit his own. Perhaps a good bit of Christian Family Values and a bit of reprieve was what she needed. They wholeheartedly agreed, and it wasn’t like he needed their permission anyhow, being the sole person in charge of the school and church. But it wouldn’t do to cause suspicion and so he covered his bases. The only people he ever had to answer to was the priesthood itself, but they were removed from the school and only around for various meetings, worship and such. So really, he was quite lucky. But luck wasn’t always kind. Sometimes it was bad. He didn’t want to take any chances and so his cunning tongue took over the job and successfully branded him and Buffy as innocent vacationers on a quest for faith and healing of the soul, with a little Christmas Spirit thrown in for good measure. It was almost laughable how easy it was and if he took even five minutes to really ponder the situation, he might have felt guilty for taking advantage of the Sisters’ good faith in him. But he didn’t. His thoughts were preoccupied with Buffy and what might be.
They hadn’t met again since their reunion in the courtyard, and it was just as well as he had a million preparations to take care of before his departure. But once the day came to whisk her away to what he hoped was a wonderful vacation, he found himself nervous for the first time in years. He was even more nervous when she stood by his old Desoto holding her suitcase. This was it. No turning back now.
Buffy was also nervous, though she pushed those feelings aside and instead concentrated on Father William’s car. She almost commented on how outdated it was, but as she spied him pulling out a handkerchief to rub out a spot of dirt on the hood, she bit her tongue. He might have been a simple man who lived in a barren room, but it was obvious he’d allowed himself one indulgence, this automobile that had seen better days. He stood up and admired his work, smiling shyly when he realized he was being watched and shrugged his shoulders in a way that said, I know, but it’s all I’ve got. As he loaded their luggage, and she didn’t fail to notice that he only had a small satchel, she took a deep breath in preparation for what was to come. After two years of lusting after this man and three weeks of mind blowing sex, she realized that this would be the first time they might have an actual conversation. They might actually get to know one another. And worse, he might get to know her and regret ever having suggested this trip in the first place.
He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips as he started the ignition. She wondered what he was thinking at that moment. They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street and in eerie silence, they made their way to Los Angeles, to their hotel, to their unknown future.
~*~*~*~
William instructed Buffy to wait in the car as he checked into the hotel. He didn’t want to deal with suspicious eyes should they see a priest and a young girl in a school uniform, accusing him of the very thing he was guilty of. Once he retrieved his keys, he went back to the car to bring in their luggage and usher her into their room. Buffy was impressed with the hotel, though she’d stayed in better, often accompanying her parents on their various excursions around the world during the summer. But she didn’t hold it against him, nor did she want anything extravagant. She’d fully anticipated staying in some seedy motel on the side of the freeway, so it was a nice surprise to find that they were in fact staying at a nice place, with a large bed and a large bathtub. They silently inspected the room. William opened the French doors and stepped out onto the large balcony while Buffy opened the shampoos and lotions, smelling them to see if she’d want to use them instead of the products she’d brought. Instead, she scooped them all up and put them into her suitcase for later use, replacing them with her own.
When she walked back into the bedroom, she found William rummaging through his tiny satchel. He had three pairs of black slacks which were instantly hung on the hotel provided wooden hangers, two priest-collared black shirts, also hung in the closet, his over coat and a blazer. His socks were neatly rolled and placed in a drawer and she realized he packed no underwear. After their first few intimate encounters, William stopped wearing boxers to speed up the process. Perhaps he’d formed a new habit of going commando. Taking his cue, Buffy began pulling out her clothes. She didn’t pack her uniforms, only what she was wearing and instead brought her casual wear that she often wore on the weekends or after class. Those items she had an abundance of and they dominated the closet and hotel drawers.
William sat in an overstuffed arm chair, watching her as she milled about the room organizing her things. They’d barely spoken since they left and he felt incredibly awkward, not knowing exactly how to start a conversation. So he amused himself by studying her movements, basking in the various facial expressions when she was concentrating on something, how she’d tuck her hair behind her ears every time she leaned over to pull something out of her suitcase, and her silent frustration when she couldn’t get the pant clips to open on the stubborn hangers. After three tries, she huffed and spun around holding a pair of pants in one hand and the hanger in the other, her lower lip jutting out in defeat as she silently asked him for help. He smiled and stood up, playfully yanking the items from her hands with a roll of his eyes and helped her hang up her clothes. She bounced behind him with her hands clasped behind her waist, instructing him that she wanted her jeans grouped together and her skirts in another section so she could find things easier. His mouth opened and he narrowed his eyes at her OCD, but of course he obliged her, shaking his head with mirth. Once everything was put away, another awkward silence fell over them.
William looked at the closet and noticed his wardrobe vs. hers. This would not do, and after all, he was taking a chance to live like a normal man. Decision fully imprinted in his mind, he said, “I think we should go shopping.”
That perked her right up and she clapped her hands with a girlish squeal. She changed into a pair of blue jeans and a light sweater, and they headed out to get William some new clothes.
~*~*~*~
Buffy chewed on her lip as she watched William sift through the racks of menswear, scratching his temple when he pondered a shirt and then shook his head, moving on to the next item. This had been going on for almost an hour and he hadn’t picked anything to try on yet. He knew his waist size and his inseam, his shirt and collar size, but that all pertained to his priest garb and not casual wear. And what was with the abundance of worn and ragged jeans? They were over a hundred dollars and full of holes and stains. Why on earth would anyone pay that much for something that looked used and would probably fall apart after a few washes? Then there was the matter of shirts. He didn’t really know what style to pick, or even if he had a style. When he was a teenager, it was all about the skater look, the punk look, the bohemian look, just about every conglomeration of decades long past as an excuse to rebel; things he’d secretly wanted to wear but was too nerdy to pull off and he didn’t know if that was even considered “in” these days. Did people still wear Birkenstocks or Airwalk sneakers? God, he hoped not. He didn’t know. To be perfectly honest, he was lost in a sea of fashion that was giving him a panic attack. Graphic printed tees, skinny jeans, and…was that a puffy vest? Weren’t those out in the ‘80s? William was simple, even when he was young. Slacks. Button-ups. A nice belt. Maybe a Polo if it was hot. Simple, easy, no fuss. But he didn’t want that any more, especially seeing Buffy in her normal wear. While she only had on a pair of jeans and a sweater, they had a certain European look to them that was very fashionable. Perhaps she’d know more about this stuff than he did, but he was on a mission, a mission to figure out who the hell he was outside of a church.
Buffy was going to lose her fucking mind if William didn’t make a decision, and soon. So, being the shopping aficionado that she was, she took matters into her own hands. She pointed to a chair near the dressing room and ordered him to sit down. He paused and quirked an eyebrow, before admitting defeat and did as she instructed. After he told her his measurements, she flitted away into the rows and rows of clothing and came back in only ten minutes with a pile of clothing that almost made her topple over from the weight. His eyes were wide and he stood up, grabbing as much as he could as a retail assistant rushed over to get him a room.
“You want me to try all of this on?”
“Yup.”
“I’m not getting this many clothes.”
Buffy sighed. “Fine, here, let me look again.” She sifted through the pile and selected half of it. “There. Go. Try these on. I’m going to look at shoes.”
“Ok,” he said warily and began the daunting task of trying on jeans, pants, jackets, t-shirts, dress shirts, sweaters, scarves? She got scarves? That was just ridiculous. Sure, it had been colder than usual but it wasn’t a winter wonderland by any means. It was L.A., for God’s sake. He had to hand it to her, though. She had good taste and he liked just about everything he put on, even though they were a bit snug, but he decided to buy it all. When he stepped out of the dressing room wearing his priest uniform, Buffy frowned.
“I wanted a fashion show!”
He chuckled. “Oh, you’ll get one later, kitten. I’ll show you all my goodies.”
She blushed and felt that familiar tingle when he spoke in such a husky tone. It was the first time he’d even hinted at anything sexual since all of this began, and she was more comfortable in his presence now that the mischievous twinkle was back in his eyes where it belonged.
With a lick to his finger and a careful tear out of his checkbook, they grabbed his bags and left the mall.
~*~*~*~
“I’m starving!”
“Hang on!”
“You’ve been in there for thirty minutes! Come on, my stomach is going to implode!”
“So dramatic.”
“William, please!”
“Fine. Give me two seconds to figure out this…oh, there it is. Ok, you ready?”
“I’m ready.”
William stepped out of the bathroom into the hotel room and scratched his head, raising his eyebrows as his free hand nervously shoved itself into his jeans pocket. “So?”
Buffy swallowed and gawked at the man before her. While his clothes weren’t anything particularly fancy, on him, it looked like pure sex. Like one of those models for GQ for “casual male” or something of the sort. He had on a black t-shirt with a charcoal grey v-neck sweater over it, slim-fitting dark-wash jeans with wear and tear around the pockets and hem; very George Clooney on a Sunday. Oh, she liked this a lot. But the kicker was the black boots that gave the look a bit of an edge. William was still William and while she wanted to squeeze his sexy ass into a pair of leather pants, she knew it would be a bit much at this point. Plus, with those sandy-blond curls and his bright blue eyes, it wouldn’t look right anyhow. And who didn’t think George Clooney had style? See, it totally paid to read magazines, especially when this was the result.
When she didn’t say anything for a while, William’s shoulders sagged and he turned back to the bathroom. “I’ll put something else on,” he said somberly, all confidence out the window.
Buffy shook her head and leapt from the bed, racing over to him before he could shut the door. “Don’t you dare! You look hot!”
“I do?”
“Oh yeah,” she purred, coyly walking towards him. “Really hot.”
He smirked at her and shook his head. “Right.”
“I’m serious. It’s a very sexy look, William.”
He hummed and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him and he kissed her neck. “Think I’m sexy, do you?”
“Uh huh…”
His hands trailed to her ass and he lifted her up, slamming her back into the door frame and grinded against her, wrapping her legs around him. “Still hungry, pet?”
“Um…I can wait,” she stuttered as hands slid beneath her sweater and cupped her breasts.
“Good. Because I’m going to fuck you,” he said silkily as her sweater landed on the floor, “and fuck you,” his mouth was on her ear then as he quickly unhooked her bra, “and then…when you think you can’t take it any more,” his thumbs rolled over her nipples, “I’m going to fuck you again.”
“Oh…Jesus Christ,” she moaned, throwing her head back as he rubbed against her, leaning down to suck a nipple into his hot mouth. He slid her up the length of the door frame and she raised her hands to grab the molding on either side, anchoring herself around his waist with her legs as his tongue flicked her nipples and his hands unbuttoned her jeans, slipping beneath the denim to grab her ass. He groaned as he rubbed her against his erection and she heard a loud thud as he kicked the door open when it swung back, hitting him on his side.
“Need you right now,” he growled and carried her into the bedroom, his mouth sucking her neck, her hands fisting in his hair and then her back was on the mattress and her shoes and jeans were piled on the floor. He licked his lips and in one movement, tugged his t-shirt and sweater up and over his shoulders. She lay in front of him, her legs spread, rubbing her nipples as she watched him watching her. He was breathing heavy with lust and his hand rubbed his erection outside his jeans. “Fuck, I want you so bad. God, look at you…”
She bit her lip and smiled, hooking her big toe on the waistband of his jeans and said, “Take these off.”
He toed his boots off and hurriedly unbuckled his belt, unsnapped his jeans and slid them down his slim hips. He prowled over her, smirking arrogantly when she started panting and he kissed her then, moaning when her tongue slid past his lips. His hands slid down her sides and cupped her ass, pulling her hips up into his needy thrusts and then his hand slipped behind her panties and cupped her mound. She looked him in the eyes as his fingers slid between her folds, wanting him more than she ever had. Somehow, outside of his office this was different. He was still just as demanding, just as greedy for her aching flesh: but on a bed in a hotel room, the mood shifted and she felt more like she was having sex with her boyfriend instead of her teacher or her priest. It was almost…normal.
“I love this pussy, Buffy…fuck I love it,” he all but growled as he slid his fingers inside of her and bit her nipple. She moaned, her mouth dropping open as he curled his fingers inside of her and his tongue swirled around her hard nipples. She clutched the sheets with her fists and let out a loud gasp when he fisted the front of her panties and twisted, ripping them clean off her body.
With lightning speed, he’d lifted her hips in the air and buried his face between her legs, grumbling with approval as he kissed her sodden folds. His tongue slowly circled her clit, his hands squeezed her ass and her feet struggled to find purchase on his shoulders as he wildly lifted her up and down in time with his tongue. Right as her climax reached the surface; he dropped her back on the bed and claimed her lips as he slid his cock inside her.
They both cried out and William took a moment to steady his breathing. She thought he would take her hard, fuck her so wildly that she couldn’t walk, but instead he lazily pulled out and locked eyes with her before slamming his cock inside her again. He did it again, and again, slowly pulling out, and then slamming it home. They grunted and hissed, tongues darting out to wet their lips, eyes focused on their partner and then they smiled. He wanted this to last, as well as make it hurt in all the right places and when he held her hands above her head and kissed her, he picked up the pace, grinding his hips against hers, circling them, finding that spot inside her that set her on fire. Her feet rested on his ass, feeling his muscles flex every time he entered her, pushing him deeper. She felt a thin line of sweat on his spine and his hot breath on her neck. He was gulping for air, screwing his eyes shut when he finally found a rhythm they both liked.
“Fuck me, William….oh, God fuck me!”
He growled and sat on his heels, holding her hips up at the waist and plowed into her. Her eyes raked over his lithe form, his muscles contracting, his skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat, his lips red and wet, curled into an arrogant smirk, his eyes focused on her bouncing breasts. She saw his tongue wet his upper lip and she knew what he wanted. She grabbed her tits and pinched her nipples for him.
“Oh, yeah, Buffy…pinch ‘em. God, I love your tits.”
She smiled and squeezed him from the inside, loving the strangled moans he made. To pay her back for her efforts, his thumb stroked her clit and he slammed into her, causing her to squeal.
“Love that sound.”
“God, William! I’m gonna come soon.”
“Say it, Buffy…say it!”
“Now!”
He instantly pinched her clit, latched his mouth on her nipples and circled his hips with a brutal thrust and she sobbed in pleasure as she came, her walls fluttering around him and he released her nipple as a raspy moan tore from his throat, spilling inside her. With whimpering sighs, they collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs, his lips pressing against her shoulder as he pulled her into his arms.
“Thirty second breather, love,” he said with a smile, closing his eyes as he gasped for air.
She giggled. “That’s all you need, huh? I might need a five minute breather.”
He bit his lip and trailed his hand down her stomach to her mound and slowly circled her entrance with his middle finger. She let out a ragged moan and he chuckled, knowing the effect he had on her. “Thirty seconds and I’m going to be right back here.”
She looked down and realized he wasn’t kidding. He was already hard again. With a blissful sigh and a stretch of her arms, she rolled onto her back as William started kissing her neck. “God, I love Christmas break.”