It was wrong. It was ridiculous. More than that, it was insane, Buffy reproved herself.

 

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop packing and repacking for her trip with William. It was silly, how often she repacked, but she just couldn’t decide. Sexy little dresses, or practical things so they could hike out in the countryside? Should she bring the miserable few pieces of lingerie she had, since she’d been forced to leave most of her stuff at home, or would he even notice?

 

He had a tendency to get all preoccupied and…riiiiip.

 

Besides, she didn’t think he really noticed what she wore. He looked at her like he was just staring through her clothes anyway. She could wear a big old potato sack and he’d look at her exactly the same.

 

And now they were going to be together for days, and they could have sex in the hall for all anyone would care. Well, maybe not the hall, but…okay, maybe the hall.

 

“Four days, four days,” Buffy sang, rearranging her clothes once again.

 

Cordelia, opening the door to their room, rolled her eyes. She hadn’t really realized it before, but Buffy? Was actually kind of crazy. Not in a wild-and-crazy way, more in a crackers-and-needs-therapy sort of way. She stared off into space, came and went at all hours, and Cordelia was pretty sure she was throwing her clothes away or something, because she seemed to have fewer and fewer of them. And she seemed to be having recurring dreams about her childhood, because Cordelia kept being awakened by Buffy muttering “Yes sir…no sir….”

 

Cordelia hadn’t mentioned anything, but she’d seen Buffy surreptitiously taking pills for the last month or so. She thought Buffy might want to ask her doctor for another prescription, because these didn’t seem to be helping much at all.

 

“Yeah, four days, Buffy,” agreed Cordelia with mock cheer, humoring her roommate. For all she knew, Buffy was dangerous.

 

“Cordy?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Can I borrow your black heels? You know, the ones with the little satin bow in the back?”

 

Cordelia shouldn’t have been surprised by the request. The insane were unpredictable, after all. God knows, her cousin Eddie had once dove into his parents’ swimming pool wearing a tuxedo, declaring he was going to save the harp seals. And he’d hardly had anything to drink that night. “You want to borrow my heels to go home for Thanksgiving?”

 

“Mmm-hmm,” Buffy murmured. A non-commital murmur was not a lie.

 

“To go home, where all of your shoes are?” Cordy specified.

 

“Yeah,” replied Buffy blithely.

 

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Fine, take them,” she sighed getting the shoes out and passing them to Buffy. It was best just to keep her calm, right? “You seem really excited. You like Thanksgiving?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Buffy giggled.

 

“Why?”

 

Buffy paused a moment as she thought of how to phrase things. She really didn’t like to lie. Actually, she was fine with lying, but now that she was sleeping with the headmaster she felt she ought to be more moral or something. At least when I  don’t have my legs wrapped around his head, she silently amended.

 

“What I like best about Thanksgiving is that I can finally have as much as I want and nobody says I can’t,” Buffy said with a secretive smile. Hey, not bad. She didn’t lie one bit!

 

~*~*~*~

 

William had planned their escape down to the last moment. He wasn’t a worrier—much—but he didn’t want anything to go wrong. As much as it was reasonable to run Buffy out on a little trip to town during the week, loading up his car with their luggage and driving off campus with her for the holiday would be far too obvious.

 

So William arranged for a taxi to ferry Buffy downtown, where he was waiting for her.

 

It had gone off perfectly, and now they were almost to the inn. They’d passed scenes straight off postcards: covered bridges, pretty streams, colorful woods.

 

William barely noticed them, absorbed in the girl at his side.

 

“How much longer?” Buffy asked eagerly. The scenery was gorgeous, but after a few hours of pretty scenery, it all looked the same. Even with all the colors, trees just weren’t that exciting.

 

William reached over to squeeze her hand, resting on the seat between them. “Not long,” he told her.

 

Mmm, that was good, Buffy thought. As soon as they checked in she was going to rush him upstairs, and then after a long, long time, they could get some dinner.

 

Well, actually, she was kind of hungry. Maybe they could have dinner first. Yeah, that was a good idea, because that way they wouldn’t have to get out of bed—they could just—

 

Buffy pulled her hand out from under William’s, and he glanced at her. She didn’t say anything, just smiled coyly. She unbuckled her seat belt and scooted closer to him.

 

He looked at her in surprise. “I’m not really sure that—”

 

He stopped talking quick enough when Buffy unzipped his fly and bent her head down.

 

Above her she heard a strangled gasp, and then felt his hand come down to rest on the back of her neck.

 

But instead of holding her to him, he was hauling her upright. “What do you think you’re doing? My god, do you know how dangerous that is?”

 

Buffy was stunned. “I—I thought you’d like—”

 

“What? Dying in a fiery car wreck? My god, if there was an accident your head and neck would be shoved right up into the steering wheel! Your skull could be crushed, or your neck broken! Do you want that?”

 

“N—nooo,” she sniffled, moving to wedge herself against the passenger door, as far away from him as she could get.

 

“I don’t want you ever doing that again, ever, do you hear?” he demanded furiously.

 

“Fine!” Buffy burst out, and turned to stare out at the countryside. She didn’t look at him for the rest of the drive. After a few moments he returned his gaze to the road. They were almost there.

 

The holiday was off to a wonderful start.

 

~*~*~*~

 

It wasn’t in Buffy’s nature to be quiet, but she was silent all through dinner, shrugging when he asked her what she wanted and pushing her food around her plate in disinterest. She ignored all his overtures to conversation, and got up and left the hotel restaurant while he was paying the bill. When he opened the door to their room he found her laying on the bed face down, head turned away from the door, as if she didn’t even care to look at him.

 

William suppressed a smile as he surveyed her on the bed. His darling could sulk like nobody’s business, he was finding out. Of course, what did he expect? She was the girl, after all, who’d piled horse shit on his desk chair. Brat.

 

William knelt on the bed beside her. “Is my baby pouting?” he whispered, pushing the hair away from the side of her neck so he could press kisses against her throat. She shivered a little and stubbornly refused to answer. Why should she even talk to him after he treated her that way?

 

She was sullenly silent as he continued to nuzzle her throat, rubbing her back gently. After a while she began to relax, but she still didn’t turn over to face him. She’d been looking forward to this for so long, and he had to go and ruin it for her by acting like that. Why did he even—

 

Suddenly Buffy felt cool air brush her ass and realized William had pushed her dress up over her hips. “What—what do you think you’re doing?” she exclaimed, starting to sit up. His hand was no longer rubbing her back, but pushing her down against the mattress. “Hey!”

 

“Hey what?” he asked idly, stroking his hand across her firm little ass. He traced the curve of her silky cheeks and drew his index finger across the neat little crease where her thighs and ass met, and she tensed, unsure if she was scared or turned on.

 

“No panties?” he asked needlessly. He could see for himself that she was bare as the day she was born.

 

Buffy held her breath and shook her head.

 

“Well, someone’s a very naughty girl,” he scolded. “Did I tell you that you could do this?”

 

“I—” Buffy began, voice quavering.

 

“That was a rhetorical question, Miss Summers, meaning I did not want it answered.”

 

“I know what a—”

 

Crack! She gasped as his hand slapped down across her ass. “I’ll tell you when you may speak, Miss Summers.”

 

Okay, yeah, she was definitely turned on.

 

She pushed back against his hand and he squeezed one plump cheek. “Did I say you could move?” She didn’t reply, and he smacked her again. “That was an actual question, Miss Summers.”

 

“No, sir,” she answered promptly, and he fondled her ass approvingly.

 

“That’s good,” he praised. “Now why don’t you tell me what you thought you were doing in the car?”

 

“I thought you’d like it—sir,” she added, as he gave her a reproving squeeze.

 

“Have you done that before?” he asked calmly, as if he didn’t care about the answer. Stroking her the entire time.

 

“N—no,” she answered, her voice a little shaky. Bastard, touching her like that, knowing what it was doing to her. She reached down and pushed her hand between her legs, but he jerked it out and shoved it up by her head.

 

“You know you’re not supposed to do that without permission,” he told her.

 

“Please, sir,” she begged, squirming around.

 

“So, you’ve never done that before?” he asked, as if she hadn’t said anything.

 

Buffy sighed in frustration. “No,” she repeated.

 

“What did you think would happen?”

 

“I thought you’d enjoy yourself,” she muttered.

 

“You thought I’d get off,” William observed.

 

“Well—yeah,” Buffy replied blankly. Duh.

 

“And you thought I’d be calm enough to just continue driving? Without running off the road? Smashing into a tree? Driving into oncoming traffic?” he continued, his hand sliding down her ass, nudging her thighs apart, and pushing into her tangled curls. She whimpered and ground her pussy against him. Suddenly he was right there, his mouth against her ear, his voice raspy and low. “You make me crazy, baby. I could never be that cold around you, that calm, never. You make me lose control, you know you do,” he grated, taking her earlobe between his lips and worrying it, all the while working his clever fingers inside her. “You make me wild.”

 

Buffy moaned, reaching back desperately to clutch his ass, pleading with him.

 

He knew what she wanted, of course, always knew. He grasped her hips in his hands and dragged her to the edge of the bed, the friction pushing her dress up until it barely covered her breasts. She whimpered unintelligibly as she heard the metallic scrape of his zipper being pulled down and thrust her ass towards him insistently.

 

He chuckled shakily behind her and thrust inside with no further preliminaries. None were needed. She cried out with relief as he filled her, her muscles straining to keep him inside. Then he was pumping inside of her, his hands squeezing her hips tightly. “Did you learn you lesson?” he gritted out, pounding into her, his balls slapping against her ass.

 

She keened and thrust back, and he released one hip to crack the flat of his palm against her bottom cheek again. “Well?” he demanded.

 

“Yes, sir,” she moaned.

 

“Are you going to do that again?” he asked, hips pistoning against hers.

 

“No, sir!”

 

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his breath coming raggedly as he approached climax. She clutched at the sheets desperately and he reached beneath her to finger her hard little clit, then came in a flood as he felt her tighten around his cock.

 

He rested above her for a few moments as their breathing returned to normal before sliding off of her and pulling her into his arms.

 

She turned around to face him, buried her face against his neck, and smiled.

 

Sometimes it paid to be a troublemaker.

 

Chapter Seventeen
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