Tempesta di Amore by Holly

Chapter 23

Author's Notes:

Author's Note: I’m back! And I have a very special treat for everyone who’s still reading. I am incredibly sorry for the delay on this; I took a brief break to write holiday fics and it took me longer than I thought to get back on track. But again, if you’re still with me, this chapter shouldn’t disappoint. My thanks to Tami, Mari, EB, and Yani for looking over this.

Previously: A grisly discovery at the bay forces William to confess he murdered Drusilla, as well as the true details of their less-than-happy marriage. Buffy finally learns that she’s had William’s love from the beginning, but even as they take solace in each other’s arms, they know they can’t get too complacent, as the reality of Drusilla’s demise might end up costing William his freedom, and Buffy the man she loves.

---

A quiet blanket of calm settled over the manor.

William had remained at Buffy’s side all night, save for the few times he was called to the phone. It hadn’t taken long for the harbor master to confirm the body in the boat was female, leading to a series of uncomfortable phone trades speculating as to William’s stability when he identified the woman currently lying in the de Winter tomb. To his credit, William remained calm throughout every inquiry. He stood stationary by the phone, answering with detachment Buffy would have, just yesterday, mistaken for grief. But his eyes remained on her—fixed, determined. In those deep irises, she saw nothing but her reflection. He was absorbed in her.

Few words were actually traded once they left the unassuming sanctuary of the front parlor. However, stepping into the hall, Buffy felt the grip of Drusilla’s ghost at last fade away. She had William’s love—she had the thing she thought she’d never touch. And though the future was clouded with uncertainty, the peace she felt was insurmountable.

She had William. She truly had him. There was no way she would let him go. They’d made it this far by fighting two separate battles a world apart; they were joined now in ways they couldn’t have been before. Together they would beat back the storm.

Failure was not an option. She had something for which to fight. Something more precious than she could have ever dreamt.

The evening passed slowly. William accepted calls—most from Colonel Finn, though a few from reporters. He closed himself in his office until supper, and while they ate together, watching each other with newfound understanding, not many words were traded.

He kept looking at her as though he expected her to disappear. As though he thought her promise of love, regardless of the sins of his past, could not overcome the monstrosity of the moment. The horrors they had yet to face.

What was coming tomorrow.

She did not want to push him. Thus, after supper, she did as she did every night; climbed the stairs to the second floor and turned her feet toward the east. Tonight did not feature a spared glance toward the unused wing where William had lived with Drusilla. There was nothing to envy. That place was a cavern of sorrow, a tomb where her husband’s gentility and idealism had been all but destroyed. The shadows following her footsteps no longer whispered of her inadequacy. She felt, of all things, wondrously liberated.

Buffy moved about the room with newfound confidence, but opted not to change into her nightclothes, lest William be called to town. She had no idea what to expect; an inquest on the cause of Drusilla’s death, no doubt, but beyond that…

She couldn’t see that far. She didn’t want to try.

Ordinarily, Buffy would crawl into bed and wait for William to join her. Tonight, however, the prospect of slipping under the covers without him was unbearable. She instead took seat on their bed, the room dark, and waited. What had passed in the parlor hours before seemed like snippets of a dream, but the taste of his despair, the veracity of his fear at her disgust for his sins reminded her just how real the day had been. William loved her—he truly loved her. But he didn’t feel he deserved her.

Last night, she’d slept in their bed alone, every molecule of her being shattering at his unreadable eyes and the multilayered confession in the darkened entryway. She’d thought her life over—thought she’d truly resurrected Drusilla now, and there was no way for them to ever reach the small hope of happiness she’d once harbored. The delusion that if she loved him enough, it wouldn’t matter if he never loved her back.

Only he did love her back; he always had. And tonight she didn’t want to sleep alone.

She didn’t want William to walk through the door and find her already far from him. She needed him to know she was with him always—no matter what had happened in the past. The future was theirs. They merely had to outrun the ghosts.

Buffy had no idea how long she sat before he knocked, and after the echo died, she blinked dumbly at the door. William never knocked. It was his room as much as it was hers—more than it was hers. At any time, he wandered in as he pleased, uncaring, perhaps even eager to find her in a state of undress. But he was knocking now—knocking as if the room no longer belonged to him.

As though she wanted him anywhere but at her side.

Buffy cleared her throat and smoothed her palms along the fabric of her trousers. Her lips parted to call him inward, but then she thought the better of it and rose to her feet. It would take time to assure him that she wanted him—that she loved him regardless of his past. That she wasn’t living in a daze and speaking simply to reassure him rather than out of truth.

The door creaked as she opened it, and then her eyes were lost in his. William stood inches from her—mere inches that somehow seemed to fill a gorge.

“May I…” He began awkwardly, his breathing ragged, every inch of his body trembling. “…do you want…”

It unnerved her to see him so rattled. William had for so long been a pillar of strength. The stone façade he’d worn these last few months had hidden more than the truth of Drusilla’s fate; it had also concealed the passionate, emotion-driven man beneath she saw now. Words weren’t enough. He failed to see his own goodness, focused too much on his failing to identify himself as a victim.

Drusilla had nearly destroyed them both. Buffy needed no proof other than the bruises her heart still wore and the glares Mrs. Hart leveled her way every time they passed. It didn’t take knowing Drusilla to identify her as toxin; Buffy knew William. He was kind and compassionate. He was loving, funny, intelligent, and for too long he’d been trapped in his own home.

Not anymore.

Buffy nodded jerkily and threw the door open. “I meant what I said downstairs,” she said softly. “I meant every word. I love you.”

A relieved whimper tumbled off his lips. “Thank God,” he gasped, nearly falling into her arms. “I need you so much, Buffy. So much.”

His raw, broken voice nearly ripped her in two. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised, her heart in her throat. “Did something happen? I know you were on the phone all night…”

William shivered, shaking his head hard against her. “Nothing we didn’t expect,” he murmured. “There will be an inquest. But…nothing. They didn’t find…anything. Not on her. The bay’s had her too long. There’s no evidence of…” He broke off with another hard shudder. “Of what happened.”

Buffy nodded, her fingers tunneling through his hair. “It will be all right,” she whispered, and she believed it. “You just said it yourself…they didn’t find anything. They will think you were distraught when you…it will be all right.”

William’s grip on her tightened, a bitter chuckle burning his throat. “Bloody distraught,” he agreed cynically. Then his voice dipped with a whisper. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Her hand found his chin, tipping his head upward to taste his lips with her own. The velvety feel of his mouth had her knees weakening. Their kisses had always been delicious, but there was something so inherently separate from their stolen moments of intimacy of the past and the tenderness which had blossomed between them in the few hours since the confession downstairs. While William’s touch had always left her burning, there was simply no comparison to this. To his tongue’s passionate exploration of her mouth. To the way he held on to her with aching desperation. To the small whimpers scratching at his throat—the way his need poured through every move he made.

“Buffy,” he gasped into her mouth, coaxing her arms to link behind his neck. Then he was walking her backward, murmuring her name between desperate kisses. “My Buffy. My Buffy…”

Buffy nodded hard, her voice cracking. “Yes. Oh Will…”

“I’ve done so much wrong by you.”

“It’s all right.”

William shook his head. “No. No, love, it’s not all right. I made you…what I made you believe…” He cupped her cheeks as her legs hit the mattress, drawing her into the ocean of his eyes. “I didn’t deserve you. I couldn’t…and in my wanting you while knowing I didn’t deserve you, I pushed you away. I didn’t mean to…I never meant to make you feel like you were anything less than royalty. I’ve been so selfish, Buffy. So bloody selfish. I’ve needed you but I’ve felt like having you was…it was just asking too much.”

She swallowed, her hips swaying against his in a manner she barely registered. He was hard against her, and she wanted him desperately. Wanted him like never before—wanted him at last like a woman. In the past few hours, Buffy felt she had grown up. She understood so much about herself now—things which had eluded her only yesterday. And while she and William had made love before, she had never initiated anything. She had always waited for him to come to her, so certain anything else would be rejected for want of a woman who no longer lived.

It wasn’t so. William wanted Buffy, and he always had. The frightened child that had lived with her for so long had finally vanished. She was no longer a little girl. She was a woman, and she had grown up.

“There’s so much I’ve wanted to give you,” William said gently. “So much I…I’ve wanted to do to you.”

Her cheeks flamed. “We’ve done a lot.”

There was a pause; his eyes darkened. “Not nearly enough,” he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I’m a bad, bad man, Buffy.”

“No, you’re—”

“No.” He grinned, this time rakishly. “I mean the things I’ve wanted. The things I’ve…I’ve wanted to do to that delectable body of yours. Our first night together…do you remember?”

Buffy nodded, a small thrill racing down her spine. “Yes. I was so terrified.”

“I wanted you so much.” His fingers dropped to the buttons of her blouse. “I wanted to pepper kisses across your lovely breasts. Have I told you that you have lovely breasts?”

A lump the size of the island swelled in her throat. Her eyes watered and she shook her head, shuddering hard as his mouth took chart down her throat, drawing her flesh between his teeth and nibbling her delicately—such that she was suspended between jolts of pleasure and tugs of pain. She felt her blouse fall away, and then the only thing between his hands and her flesh was her brassiere. One of many brassieres she felt made her look much more ample than she was in reality.

“You do,” William murmured, trailing his mouth along her collarbone. “So soft. So pretty.” The air snapped as the clasp was liberated, and the protective cups dropped away and her naked flesh was his to explore. His kisses traveled further southward, wandering across the slope of her breasts as small, gratified murmurs scratched his throat. “Buffy…”

She existed a world apart. Never before had she been touched like this. Never before had he whispered against her skin as his mouth pressed kisses across her breasts. As he told her how lovely she was, how small and perfect. Never had she been in William’s arms with him completely. He was always somewhere else, he was always far away. Convincing himself he wasn’t worthy of the love she so desperately wanted to give him.

That wasn’t to say lovemaking with William hadn’t shaken her foundation. The pure bliss of being one with him, of feeling him in her body, had sustained her, fueled her with hope, and given her a part of him she thought otherwise untouchable. But he’d never met her eyes before when they were intimately locked. Never looked at her as he moved within her—never had he allowed it.

William had kept himself at bay. The passionate creature who held her now was the William she’d seen only in glimpses. This was the man whom had screamed at her for wandering toward the bay. The man whom had mauled her lips upon discovering Angelus’s visit. This was the man whom had taken her by storm downstairs. He was free at last, no longer the captive of his own misgivings. No longer bound by the whispers of his demons. He might have walked through shadows, but he was in the light now. And he was learning her as though they’d never before shared a bed.

As though tonight was their first as husband and wife.

Her legs hit the edge of the bed as his tongue flattened against her nipple, small shivers rippling across her skin. His fingers tenderly fondled the underside of her other breast and squeezed her with something akin to reverence. He licked her, flicked her, drew her into his mouth and sucked. Beads of white hot pleasure fired through her veins, small but insistent, and growing by the second.

“Our first night, I wanted this,” William murmured against her, leaving her nipple with a parting kiss before his head shifted to her other breast, giving her the same treatment. “Wanted…and maybe I could have.”

He pulled her tightly into his mouth, something resembling a purr vibrating through his throat. The way his tongue moved across her skin, the way it curled and laved and rubbed her sensitive peak before tracing the gooseflesh his attention incited made Buffy feel thoroughly cherished in a way she’d never imagined. She was no stranger to affection—rather, she’d been at the receiving end of affection for months. But this was something more than affection; this was love. Love unlike the sort formed between friends and family. Love unlike anything the world could fathom. William loved her, and she felt it in every move he made.

“I was selfish,” he continued in a whisper, releasing her nipple with a wet plop. “I wanted you but…I couldn’t let myself have you the way I craved.” Soft kisses whispered down her belly as his mouth migrated southward. “I’d make love to you, and then dream about this. About tasting you like this. Of loving you the way I truly wanted.” He nipped at her bellybutton before lowering himself fully to his knees. “But dreams were…she’d…they never lasted. They never lasted, love. She was always there. Always chasing you away. Always telling me—”

Buffy tensed and cupped his cheek, directing his gaze upward. “This isn’t a dream, William,” she promised hoarsely. “And it’s just us.”

He nodded, his eyes heavy. “Just us.” A lengthy pause; his head fell downward again, soaking in her bare stomach before gracing her flesh with a kiss. Then his fingers pulled on the waistband of her pants, gently coaxing her onto the mattress. He made quick work of her footwear before gently encouraging her to roll her hips upward as he dragged her trousers down her legs.

William’s face had never been so close to her center, and at once, she felt a warm blush flood her skin. He’d touched her there, rubbed her with his fingers until she climaxed, but never spread her on a bed like this. Never had the look in his eyes that he had now. Her remaining undergarment was gone in a matter of seconds, and then she was thoroughly naked for his exploration.

“I never touched you like this,” William stated matter-of-factly, his fingertips whispering across her mound, through her curls until his index finger was pressed between her vaginal lips, rubbing her wet flesh with gentility that betrayed intent. “I can’t believe I’ve had you for so long without touching you like this.”

When he glanced up again, his eyes melted. “And you…this is why.”

His thumb slipped over her clitoris, rubbing her with almost lazy circles.

Buffy was certain her heart would leap from her chest, but it didn’t. The white streaks of pleasure he’d sparked with his mouth blazed harder. She fought the urge to thrust her hips against him, though for reasons she could not fathom, only it felt as though they were at the beginning all over again. As though her limited knowledge was completely eradicated, and he was at the beginning. He was reeducating her. Silently shoving the months of intimacy they had enjoyed aside in favor of teaching her as he’d wanted from the start. “W-why?”

“The way you’re looking at me now,” William said softly. “I couldn’t have you look at me like that with what…”

He didn’t finish. There was no need. Instead, he turned his attention back to her exposed flesh, licking his lips hungrily. “You trusted me with your body without knowing what I was. I couldn’t take advantage…”

“It’s not—”

“God, but you’re heavenly.” William’s mouth neared her center, sending electric shocks through her veins. Buffy attempted to sit up—to cover herself, to close her legs, to do anything—but he refused. Her thighs were kept spread by strong forearms, his thumb still massaging her slippery pearl. With his other hand, he parted her intimate lips and favored her most secret flesh with a long, lavish lick.

Any thought of resistance promptly melted away. A hard gasp clawed through Buffy’s throat, her head rolling back. She caught herself before her back collapsed entirely on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows, wide eyes taking him in as William situated her so her knees were draped over either shoulder.

“You have no idea how gorgeous you are, do you?”

He didn’t pause and let her think. Rather, his tongue stole several more licks of her wet flesh. Every swipe had her damn near jolting off the bed, and for once, her mind was too clouded with sensation to bear any thought. He prodded her opening before delicately delving inside her, licking her inner walls with such tenderness she nearly burst into tears.

“Taste so good.”

Buffy blinked dazedly as another hard tremor seized her body, at last sending her fully against the mattress. “I…I do?”

“God yes,” William murmured, nuzzling her. “Like honey. So bloody rich. I’ve wanted to taste you for so long, kitten. Wanted to bury myself here…” He ran his fingers over her mound. “Wanted to lick up every inch.”

She trembled. “Will…”

Two fingers slipped into her body and the thumb gently manipulating her clitoris was replaced by the wet haven of his mouth. With the first tender swipe of his tongue, she bolted off the bed, hips bucking madly against his face. Her reaction didn’t startle him away like she would have thought; rather, a rakish grin stole his lips and he licked her again. Once, twice, then her hypersensitive flesh was between his lips. He pulled and sucked on her, teased her with his tongue, waggled her with a shake of his head. Ecstasy ricocheted and built, fanning toward something she’d never experienced save for when he was inside her. Save for when his body was locked in hers—holding her to the earth, keeping her grounded. But he wasn’t inside her now—he was driving her mad with his mouth, and when she felt herself lift toward explosion, there was no one to anchor her.

“That’s it,” William purred into her wet skin. “Let it go, sweetheart.”

Buffy sobbed and split apart, spasming hard under his mouth. She thrust madly against him, control a thing of the past, tears stinging her eyes and her heart flailing against her chest. Her body buzzed with warmth, numbed, and then she felt him. His tongue still prodding her, licking up everything she’d given him. His thumb at her clitoris again, stroking softly so as not to let the fire die down. As if it could. As if she could calm with him looking at her like she’d fallen from the heavens. As if he hadn’t been the one to show her the stars, rather a passenger she’d taken along the ride.

“You’re glorious.”

Her voice was harsh when she tried to use it. “Oh William…”

“Absolutely glorious.”

He kept her under his eyes a minute longer before releasing a small sigh and rising to his feet. The second his flesh left hers she was overtaken with cold. Buffy sat upright. “Don’t leave,” she said softly. “Please.”

He frowned and looked at her quizzically. “I’m not…oh Buffy. No. I’m just…” An awkward grin tickled his mouth as he gestured to his persistent state of dress. “I’m just going to…”

“Oh.”

William smiled and leaned forward, brushing a kiss across her brow. “Not going anywhere,” he promised, though his eyes spoke the words he couldn’t. He wasn’t going anywhere tonight. Tonight he was hers—the morning could change everything.

No. No. Buffy forced her thoughts away from the bay. She wasn’t going to think of what daylight might bring. Not when she had something truly worth fighting for. Her jaw hardening with resolution, she rose to her feet and lifted trembling fingers to the buttons of William’s dress-shirt. She’d never been proactive in disrobing him—content always to sit by, never wanting to overstep her bounds. Tonight there was no such fear, only conviction.

Still, she couldn’t quite meet his eyes as she undressed him. William had shaken her hard; in just a few hours, her entire world had redefined itself. And while she didn’t doubt the truth of his words or the depth of his love for her, it would take more than knowledge to reshape her horizon. It would take the deepest form of understanding.

William inhaled sharply when her fingers grazed his bare chest, his eyes darkening. The slightest touch was enough to snap his patience. He pushed her back and tore his shirt from his body, his hands flying to his trousers. In seconds he was as naked as she, his chest crashing, his eyes consuming her. They came together in a frenzy, mouths fusing, arms entangling, falling together on the mattress. His lips savaged her skin, leaving no part of her untouched. Hands wandered across her breasts and belly before slipping further between them to tease the ache between her legs.

It seemed imprudent to beg after he’d already numbed her with pleasure, but she couldn’t help herself. He’d refused to let the fire die and now she was burning all over again. Buffy craned her neck with a gasp, her fingers tunneling again through his hair.

“William…”

His heated eyes met hers, his mouth pulling on one of her nipples. “I want to remember you just like this,” he said after he released her, moving upward so the head of his erection nudged her slippery folds. “On our bed. Beneath me.”

Her breath hitched but she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t do anything but nod. And then he was sliding into her, parting her body with his. Buffy’s chest tightened. She linked her arms under his shoulders and pulled him closer. Their breaths mingled in the space between their mouths, uniting in a sigh once he was fully within her. It was a dance she knew but had to relearn all the same. Her body knew his so well, but not without the unseen barrier. Not without the veil between them.

William’s crystal eyes absorbed her. They remained locked in silence, him inside her, her legs curled at his sides, as though getting to know each other all over again. And when he blinked with doubt and turned to bury his face in her shoulder as always, she was there to catch him.

“No,” she whispered, fingers catching his cheek before he could turn away. “No, darling. Look at me.”

He trembled but didn’t argue. His eyes found hers again.

“I trust you,” she promised him, lifting her head to kiss his lips. “I know it, William. I know everything. Keep looking at me.”

Another hard breath rolled through him. He blinked hard, rapidly, silent tears misting his gaze. But he didn’t look away. Not as he wept. Not as he began moving inside her. He watched her. Watched as her words dissolved into whimpers. Watched as she rolled her hips beneath him, recapturing his length every time he slipped away. Watched as the sounds around them gave way to moans and sighs, to the creaking of the bed beneath their rocking bodies and the illicit wet smacks of their flesh colliding. Watched as the world fell apart and rebuilt itself. He watched her—his eyes remained lost in hers. He cried silent tears until realization fused with understanding; she wasn’t going to refuse him.

“Keep…looking…”

William nodded, his eyes remaining open as their tongues entwined, and even with the feel of him moving inside her, the intimacy of watching him as they kissed shook her to her core.

“Say it,” Buffy gasped when her body demanded air, her head falling against the pillow. His thrusts were coming harder now, new need blazing across her skin. Where the demand came from, she knew not. Only that it was important—she needed to hear it now. Now with William inside her, with his eyes on her, with the taste of his kisses in her mouth, she needed him to say it. She needed the words so badly.

“Buffy?”

“Tell me, William,” she begged sweetly, nipping at his lips. “Please.”

A flash; then he knew. “I love you,” he told her. “I love you. I love you so much.”

She sobbed. “Will…”

“I love you. I should have told you…God…” His brow found hers, his eyes remaining with her, his thrusts coming harder. “You’re warm. You’re heaven. Never felt this, Buffy. Not once. Just you. Only you.”

“Oh…”

“Burn me up, you do. And you love me.”

She nodded blindly, sucking his lower lip into her mouth. She battled him best she could, demanding custody of his body every time he dared pull back. Every time she felt his erection threaten to slip out of her—every time he teased her before slamming back home. “I do,” she gasped. “I do. William…”

“Always, love.”

“Yes.”

William kissed her lips again. “Still with you,” he promised softly. “Just need to…” His eyes broke away for a beat as his mouth wandered down her throat. “Always deserved to be worshipped.”

“Wo-worshipped?”

“You’re a goddess, Buffy. Liquid fire, you are. Burn me so sweet.” He growled lightly when his mouth found her breasts again, and had she been in such position she might have laughed. He seemed rather preoccupied with them. Not that she was complaining—not if his tongue kept teasing her nipples like that. Then he met her eyes again and the world was set ablaze. She felt she could come apart simply by watching him.

“Want to feel you,” he whispered suddenly, slipping his left hand between them. Her eyes followed suit, absorbing the sight of his nimble fingers teasing her as his length dipped in and out of her. And the second she felt him rub her clitoris, the white heat he’d kept her under roared to freedom and she felt herself spiraling toward ecstasy again. Clenching him. Drenching him. An inhuman cry rode off her lips as her nails dug into his shoulders, and she held him as he kept thrusting, his eyes never leaving hers.

Not even when she felt him tense and spill inside her. He watched her. He never stopped watching her.

And she never gave him reason to look away.

*~*~*

The night saw little rest. They held each other, talked to each other, cradled each other in the midst of gruesome uncertainty, and they made love until strength faded in favor of sleep. William didn’t let her sleep away from him—didn’t let her scoot to the edge of the bed she had for so long thought of as hers.

Never again, he told her. Never did he want to sleep without her in his arms.

She pillowed her head at his chest, their hands clasping and resting at his belly.

Tonight, there was no cold. Only warmth.

Tonight, there was no doubt, only knowledge.

Tonight, William was undisturbed by nightmares.

They slept in each other’s arms, encompassed in silence.


TBC


End note: I thought it was time, even though it didn’t follow my outline, to reward my faithful readers and earn this story’s rating. I did attempt to keep the love scene appropriate and “in step” with the rest of the story…and my betas have assured me it was, indeed, tender and tasteful rather than tawdry.

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