Rewards, by M. McGregor

Chapter 11

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mrs. Summers. Is Buffy awake?”

“Oh, good morning, Xander. I think I heard her banging into things upstairs. I’ll go check.”

“Great, thanks.”

Xander tapped his fingers against his thigh, and leaned over the kitchen counter to glance at the bedroom door, cursing the short cord that kept him from witnessing whatever was making Anya make such noises. He bounced on the balls of his feet, hoping Buffy would get on the phone quickly.

A minute later, he was finally rewarded with Buffy’s voice, which sounded nervous, excited, and just a little sleepy.

“Xander?”

“Hey, Buff. How was the, uh, the sleep?”

“Lonely.”

Xander cleared his throat. Buffy’s honesty with him was beginning to reveal to him some parts of his best-friend / crush / hero / slave that he’d never really thought of before. He sighed, and realized that she’d lost her freedom and her boyfriend the day before.

“I’m sorry. Guess you’re missing Riley, huh?”

“A little. Mostly I was missing, um, you.”

“Oh, well, uh, that’s kind of why I called.” He took a deep breath. “Uh, is this line secure?”

Buffy paused, and her tone grew dark. “I’ll find out.” Her sister had the unfortunate habit of picking up the extension whenever Buffy was on the phone. He envisioned Buffy racing through her house at speeds only the Slayer could manage in order to catch her sister red-handed.

Sure enough, after a few muffled sounds of movement, he clearly heard, “You little weasel! Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?”

“I wasn’t listening!” Dawn argued. “You can’t prove that I was!”

“No, you just jump across the room away from the phone whenever I come into a room!”

“Yeah, well why are you missing Riley? And why are you missing Xander even more?”

Buffy gasped. “You were listening!”

“Uh…uh…”

“Oh! I’m telling Mom.”

“No! Buffy,” Dawn whined. “Come on! I’m sorry!”

Buffy was not to be dissuaded, and soon Dawn was confined to her room for the next hour, her phone unplugged and locked away for the rest of the week. Xander grinned just a little at how Dawn must be fuming.

“Okay,” Buffy said sometime later. “All clear.”

“Uh, good. You remember what we talked about yesterday?”

Her voice lowered. “About…everything?”

“Yeah. I kind of got the impression that you…you know. Wanted to try it all out.”

The sound of her breathing became louder, and she murmured a “Mmm-hmm.”

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Xander said. “And, uh, I guess I’m going to give it a shot. Like maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all.”

“It’s not,” Buffy breathed. Xander smiled a little.

“You’re unbelievable, Buff. You know that?”

“Well, I…”

His grin widened, picturing her shy expression at the praise. “So, here’s what you’re going to do.”

“What I’m going to do?”

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing nervously. This would either work and be amazing, or fail and make him an ass for the rest of his life. “You’re going to go upstairs, get a bag or suitcase and pack up some clothes you can spare. If anyone asks, you’re bringing stuff over in case they get messed up from Slaying and you’re closer to my place than you are to home.”

Buffy whimpered a little. “Okay.”

“But Buffy?”

“Yes, Xander?” she squeaked.

“Don’t pack any underwear.”

“Oh god,” she panted.

“When you’re done, come over here as quickly as you can. Then you have a choice. When you get here, I’m going to ask you if you’re wearing any panties. If you are, then I judged all of this wrong. If you’re not, it means that you’re mine. Understand?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Oh, and one last thing.”

“Anything,” she whimpered. Xander smiled.

“No touching your breasts for the rest of the day. Only me, Anya, or Faith are allowed to touch them.”

She whined wordlessly for a moment before breathing, “Yes, Xander.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Thank you, Xander.”

He wanted to tell her it was him who should be thanking her. But he knew what she was looking for, and thought he was beginning to understand the allure that this held for Buffy. She was never someone who enjoyed responsibility, save for her natural inclination to take charge in combat situations. The excitement of giving up control was not something Xander felt himself, but he thought he might be able to understand it for her sake.

“You’re welcome, Buffy.”

“Bye,” she whispered.

“Bye.”

Buffy knelt on the floor beside her closet, digging through piles of clothes to find her duffel bag. She held her legs tightly together, trying to ignore the throbbing need to touch herself. It was difficult, because all she seemed able to think about was the fact that she was unable to touch her breasts. The sheer power of that command thrilled her to the core. Xander was beginning to take charge in the way that she’d been hoping for most of the last twenty-four hours.

Was it really such a short time? It felt like so much longer. She’d made love with Xander, told him of her deepest desires, broken up with Riley, masturbated in front of Xander, Anya, and Faith, and had practically begged him to get over his guilt and take advantage of his reward. Now it seemed like he was going to, and the reality of it was more frightening and more arousing than any of her fantasies.

A few days ago she was the Slayer, more the Slayer than she’d ever been before. Her “calling” had been feeling more and more like that: a call. A summoning feeling within her that drove her to embrace her reality as the Slayer. She wanted to hunt, to kill, to train and to win.

All the while, she hadn’t quite realized that while the Slayer grew strong, Buffy was lost. It had been so subtle, so hidden. Just a few days ago she was more the Slayer than she was Buffy, and she had been looking forward to embracing her Slayer side more and more.

But with Xander she didn’t feel like the Slayer. She felt like Buffy, Buffy who was a nineteen-year-old girl and Buffy who was a slayer. With him she remembered that she had fantasies about the future, pipe dreams about a family and a happy life. Now those dreams were mixed with the kinkiest things she could think of, but they were still Buffy dreams, not Slayer dreams.

If she’d realized that part of her had been slipping away, she would have remembered to miss it. Now she was determined to embrace it if she could. Xander, his control over her, and indeed just the love she knew without doubt he felt for her warmed her soul. It gave her life.

A life she was starting to think had been slowly slipping away from her. Losing its meaning. Only Slaying was mattering anymore. In a day, Xander had changed that.

He gave her life. It’s what Xander always did, sometimes figuratively by instilling her with newfound confidence during her darkest times, and sometimes literally, by breathing her soul back into her and restoring her life. Was that why it felt so beautiful to give that life to him and put it in his hands?

Her hands moved of their own accord as she ran over these thoughts in her mind. She grabbed various outfits, fighting the desire to grab only the hottest ones. These would likely be the clothes she’d have to wear after being magically transported to Xander’s, so she needed to be able to wear them around other people as well. Still, she chose a few skirts that would be undeniably erotic to wear without panties.

She was halfway through packing her bag when her mother knocked on the door.

“Buffy? Willow’s on the phone.”

Buffy sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “Okay! I’ll pick it up.”

A moment later she picked up her extension, and waited to hear the click of her mother hanging up the phone.

“Hey,” Buffy said, packing with one hand as she held the phone with the other.

“Hi. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Buffy understated.

“Really?” Willow sounded skeptical. “You’re not, you know, being brave, are you?”

“Brave?”

“About the, um, sex thing. With Xander.”

Buffy almost laughed. “No, I’m really fine, Willow. I’m…” she wondered if she could admit it without a spell making her tell the truth. She decided to go halfway. “I’m actually going over to his apartment in a few minutes.”

Willow was silent for a moment. “You are?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean, you know, you might have to…do it, if you go over there,” Willow said, sounding very embarrassed. “I thought you’d want to avoid him until we found a way to stop this.”

That made her insides churn. Stop it? Buffy’s heart began to race. What if she didn’t want to stop it? She hadn’t gotten a real taste of what it could be, yet. Xander had only just begun to take charge, only just begun to show her how exciting this could all be.

With the reward, she had an excuse to be with him, to bask in that love he offered her and explore all those desires without worrying about judging herself for having them. Without it, could she ever have the courage to ask Xander for any of this? Without it, would she even be able to be with Xander, since he was with Anya?

“Buffy? Buffy are you there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said. “I was just…thinking.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of it.”

“No, it’s not that.” She licked her lips. “Willow?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I, um, invoke best friend privilege here?”

“You mean like how I have to help you move a body upstate or how I have to be non-judgmental and super undesrstanding-y?”

“The last one,” Buffy said with a slight grin.

“Okay. Give me a second.” Willow took several calming breaths, and Buffy stifled a laugh. Willow was so cute sometimes. And a lesbian. A cute lesbian who had sex with other cute lesbians and they would kiss and suck and fondle and play with breasts and smooth womanly parts that were really so beautiful and god oh god why couldn’t she just reach up and tweak her nipple just once because they were so hard and begging for someone to touch them.

Dropping back onto her bed and forcing her hands not to slide under the waistband of her pants, Buffy licked her lips again and tried not to think about Willow, beautiful women, or Xander or any of his parts. Manly parts that were hard and strong and big and felt all slidey when they were inside of her. God, she was doomed.

“Okay, I’m ready,” Willow said. “What’s up?”

“Um, have you ever, uh, you know. Done things? With Tara?”

“I do lots of things with Tara,” Willow said carefully. “I kind of thought you knew what those were.”

Buffy closed her eyes, and saw Willow leaning back with a blonde head between her legs. Heard a soft cry of delight, felt smooth skin slide against smooth skin. Oh yeah, she knew what some of those were.

“No, I mean, yeah I do know, but I meant…um…do you ever, um, you know, tell her to do things? O-or maybe she tells you to do things?”

There was a long pause. “What kind of things?”

“Like, um, w-what to wear? Or that you’re not allowed to…touch…things.”

“Oh,” Willow said in a quiet voice. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Um, that’s kind of personal.”

Buffy blushed. “I’m sorry. I know. I just…”

“That’s what you’re supposed to do, right? With Xander? Are you afraid he’s going to make you do things?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “No, Willow. No. I’m…” Buffy took a deep breath. “I’m afraid he loves me too much to make me do things.”

“What?”

“Do you ever do them?” Buffy asked again, starting to feel a little scared.

“Buffy, I—”

“I used to think about them sometimes,” Buffy said quietly, hoping for some kind of confirmation that she wasn’t a freak. “Before this. I-I never told anyone. Not even Riley. I once had a dream about…about Angelus. He did things. I was so scared when I woke up. I was afraid it might have been a Slayer dream, but I was more afraid…because a little part of me was hoping it would be.”

“Buffy…”

“I’m a freak,” Buffy whispered. “And now I’m just a bigger freak. And Xander’s totally weirded out by all of it and we’re going to remove the reward but everyone will know that I want all these weird things and Xander will go back to being with Anya and maybe I won’t know that he loves me anymore.”

“Buffy!” Willow said sharply. “Breathe.”

Buffy took a big gasping breath, and let it out as a shuddering half-sob.

“This is the spell,” Willow told her. “It’s not you, Buffy. It’s just like when you thought you were going to marry Spike.”

“No!” Buffy whined pitifully. “It’s not, Willow! I had these feelings. Not all of them, but lots of them, and now they’re in my head bigger and brighter than ever and I’m afraid of them except…except they’re so incredible at the same time. A-And I know I could never try any of them unless I was completely crazy or…”

She trailed off, and swallowed her fear. “Or if it was with Xander. I trust him, Willow. I-I think maybe love him. And I know he loves me.”

“He does,” Willow sighed. It made Buffy smile a little. Xander loved her. Ha ha ha. She always had that, at least. Not only did Xander love her, but he’d given her the gift of knowing that fact without doubt. She basked in it, and felt better. “I don’t know what to say about this. I’m worried about you.”

“So am I,” Buffy sniffed. “If Xander hadn’t told me not to freak out I’d probably be crying nonstop.”

The thought made her all the more miserable, because she was trying to build up her confidence regarding her decision to embrace her feelings, not focus on how much they scared her.

“He told you that?” Willow sounded disapproving.

“He didn’t do it on purpose. He offered to take it back. I told him not to.”

“Oh.”

Buffy cleared her throat. “So?”

“So?”

“Do you ever…with Tara?”

There was a long moment of silence. Buffy was half afraid that Willow was going to hang up. Just as she was about to ask if she was still there, Willow spoke.

“Maybe once,” Willow whispered. “Twice.”

Buffy exhaled, imagining just what that could be. “Did she tell you what to do?” she asked, enthralled by the possibility.

“This is really personal,” Willow said.

“I know. I just, I need to know if you can understand.”

Willow sighed. “I-I told her what to do.”

Buffy stifled a moan. She could envision Willow standing before Tara, the blonde witch kneeling between her lover’s legs. Could imagine Willow reaching down to touch Tara’s face, and then whisper her order. “Lick me.”

“Buffy?”

“Um, yeah. Sorry,” Buffy said, embarrassed. The heat between her legs was rising, and she slid her hand between her thighs. She wished she could touch her nipples, which strained against the front of her shirt. “So, I mean, maybe you can understand that I- that I—”

“But Buffy, Tara does those things because she loves me, not because of a spell.”

Swallowing, Buffy spoke in a quiet voice. “I think I might love him, Willow. I think I might…want to love him.”

“I know you love him,” Willow said. “But you don’t love him like I love Tara or she loves me. You don’t like him like you love Riley. You’re going to get hurt, Buffy, and you’re going to hurt him too.”

“I broke up with Riley.”

“What?”

“He— I wasn’t in love with him, Willow.”

“Yes you were!” Willow insisted. “You were kissy and huggy and— and he performed surgery on himself for you!”

“I loved him. Riley’s wonderful. I wasn’t in love with him. We weren’t meant to be.”

“Buffy, all of this could be the spell. You can’t make decisions like this so quickly, you might regret them when we fix this.”

“It’s a reward,” Buffy said, firmly. “It’s not supposed to be a bad thing.”

“You’re a sex slave!” Willow hissed.

“Because I trust him!” Buffy countered, more forcefully than she expected. “I trust him, Willow! More than anyone! H-He asked me who I trusted more than my own family, Willow. But the truth is he could have asked me who I trusted more than anyone in the whole world, and I would have said Xander. He’s been talking about nothing but how this is for me since yesterday, even with me telling him—” She trailed off.

“Telling him what?”

Buffy was silent.

“Buffy! Telling him what?”

“Telling him,” she swallowed. “Telling him to take advantage. Telling him not to be guilty.”

Willow sighed. “Buffy, how am I supposed to react to this? What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. I just, I don’t want to lose this feeling.”

“It’s not real,” Willow said sadly.

“How do you know?”

“It’s like the love spell. Don’t you remember how strong it was? How much you thought you were in love with Xander back then? You couldn’t have believed anyone who said it was false.”

Blinking away tears, Buffy sank onto her bed, and curled up into a ball, cradling the phone against her ear. She sniffed. “I felt these things before. I trusted him before. I loved him before. I had these strange fantasies before. The important things, they’re real, Willow. Couldn’t they be real? Couldn’t they?”

“Maybe,” Willow relented.

“It’s a reward,” she said again. “It’s not supposed to be bad. W-we’re going to research it, right? But maybe we don’t have to get rid of it? If I’m happy, if Xander’s happy, then does it matter why?”

“Are you going to tell Giles?”

“I’ll have to,” Buffy said. “Do you think he’ll understand?”

“I don’t know that I understand,” Willow sighed. “But if you don’t make his glasses melt, I think he’ll surprise us.”

“Willow?”

“Yeah?”

“I feel like I’m me.”

Willow had nothing to say about that.

“I have to go,” Buffy said a few moments later. “I’ll see you at the shop?”

“Okay. A-and Buffy?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll always be your best friend. E-even if you want to talk about stuff that makes my ears red.”

Buffy smiled. “Thanks, Willow.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Once off the phone, Buffy was quick to pack the rest of her clothes. Nervousness suffused her, as she was both excited about what might happen at Xander’s and afraid that it might be the only taste she ever got of the feelings inside of her. That nervousness was compounded by fear of what might happen at Giles’s new shop.

Would Giles and Willow think she was just under the control of the spell? Worse, what if she truly was under its control? She’d told Willow that she felt like herself, and she really did. She felt like Buffy again, something she hadn’t really been able to say since her junior year of high school.

The odd fluttery feelings in her stomach, the almost giddy hope of the future, the wish to be loved and the knowledge that she was, all of them combined to make her feel more like herself than she had in years. She wasn’t denying the dark, naughty little impulses that had flickered about in her mind. She wasn’t denying the cravings that made her have strange dreams sometimes. They were the things that had drawn her to Angel, and the things that had made Faith her truest rival. Faith, as Buffy was now fully aware, had felt some very similar things.

Part of her feared losing the reward, feared losing the pure eroticism, lack of doubt, and deep satisfaction it had already given her. Yet part of her was almost hopeful to be rid of it, so she could prove to herself that she wanted this anyway.

Of course, there was nothing that said they would even be able to get rid of it. And nothing that said they would decide to even if they could. Logically speaking, was the “downside” of her sex and subjugation with Xander worth losing the other benefits of the reward? Xander deserved his reward, was it worth him losing everything because Buffy and Faith were linked on a mystical level as the Slayer?

And again, if she was happy, did it matter why?

The question was, however, was she really happy? Sure, she was turned on, but just about everything turned her on thanks to Gimmel. There was hardly a sex act she could think of that didn’t make her weak in the knees, and the naughtier they were, the hotter they made her. Would Xander give her the excuse to explore them?

Happiness was something that Buffy wasn’t entirely sure she would recognize, even if she had it. It was a fleeting and bittersweet emotion, never one that seemed to stick around for long, especially not since becoming the Slayer. Had she ever been truly happy since then, or was she always grasping to hold onto whatever pleasure she could get before the next big crisis came along?

Sure, she’d had good times, and had been happy before. Time spent with her friends, with Angel, with Riley, having family time with Mom and Dawn, they were all beautiful. Yet each was tinged with the knowledge that it could be gone at any moment, that maybe they would leave, that something would not let it work out. Angel was a vampire. Riley was threatened by her being the Slayer. Friends were always in harms way, and Mom and Dawn could never understand what it meant to be the Slayer.

So why was it, Buffy wondered, that she felt that it was different with Xander? Was it because she knew he loved her? She knew it because he’d ordered her to know, but Buffy was more than confident in Xander’s feelings for her before that. What was the difference that made her feel somehow more content with Xander?

The lack of responsibility? The knowledge that she had only to submit to her feelings, and that Xander would guide her? Was it the trust that had been Gimmel’s first concern?

Or was it because for five years some secret part of her had been waiting and watching, keeping an eye on Xander, constantly evaluating the man he was becoming? She’d always known somewhere that Xander wanted her, and there had been a kind of background thought that no matter what, she could always count on his being there. It was unfair, but Xander was her subconscious backup. There was almost the feeling that she was simply waiting for herself to grow up and mature enough to realize that he was the smart choice. The choice that would, finally, make her happy.

Whatever it was, she was determined to make the best of it while she could.

She dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and was very sure to eschew panties. That wasn’t a decision she had to think on for more than half a second. Buffy was determined to embrace the satisfaction before her. Her decision had been made the night before, and once made, she was not the kind of person to change her mind.

Buffy nearly flew down the stairs, and shouted a quick farewell to her mother, telling her she’d be back late. She was out the door before she heard the reply, and was soon running at marathon pace through the bright streets of Sunnydale, her bag slung over one shoulder and a nervous excitement building within her.

She made it to Xander’s in just under ten minutes, and took an extra two to let her breathing slow. Xander’s apartment complex was surprisingly upscale, and she felt her cheeks redden as she thanked the designers for making the apartments soundproof. She’d learned yesterday that she had some trouble staying quiet.

Taking a deep breath, Buffy knocked sharply on the door. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, bouncing nervously from side to side. A moment later she heard the click of the lock, and it swung open to reveal Xander.

Shirtless Xander. With muscles and sweaty parts with ripples and hardness and tiny little hairs that trailed down past his belly button, heading beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. She knew where those hairs led. Licking her lips, she swayed on the spot.

“Buffy?”

“Hmm?” she said, distractedly.

“Door’s open.” He gave her a small smile, turning sideways and gesturing inside. The muscles in his chest moved so beautifully when he held out his arm, spreading from the hard solidness of his pecs to the thicker and surprisingly cut form of his bicep.

“Wow,” she whispered to herself.

“Buff? Buffy?”

“Yeah?” she mumbled.

“Can’t actually invite you in,” he reminded her. “Door’s open.”

Blinking, Buffy shook her head, her eyes rising to his. “Oh. Right.” She hurried inside, and Xander closed the door behind her.

“You can just leave your bag by the door,” Xander said. “We’ll figure out where to keep your stuff later.”

“Oh. Okay.” She dropped it, and turned her eyes to him.

“You okay?” he asked, stepping to her. His arms, arms made out of muscles, reached out, a hand on her upper arms. He rubbed comfortingly. “You seem weirded out.”

“Just nervous,” she admitted, staring up at his Xanderface and Xandereyes, full of worry.

“Good nervous or bad nervous?”

“Mostly good.”

He smiled sadly. “A little bad?”

She shrugged. “I talked to Willow before I came. She…she’s worried. I told her some of, um, how I feel.”

“Hoo boy. Yeah. That could make for the bad nervous.”

Buffy grinned slightly. “I still want to be here.”

“Always be a place for you,” he said seriously. Buffy breathed in slowly, staring up at him. Xander looked down at her, and somehow the distance between them was growing smaller. His face grew in her vision, and the smell of him suddenly filled her nostrils, intoxicating her. His hand brushed her cheek, warm and strong. “Whatever happens after this, you’re still Buffy, I’m still Xander. If it’s back to normal tomorrow, I never want you to feel like you have to regret this.”

“I won’t” she promised. “But you can’t either.”

“I’d only regret it if it made me lose you.”

“You won’t” she breathed. “Never, Xander. Never.”

“How do you feel?” his voice whispered in her ear, his body pressing against her. His hands stroked up and down her arms, warming her, comforting her. They were standing nearly on top of each other.

“Loved.”

“If you stop feeling that, you tell me,” he ordered, looking into her eyes.

“If I stop feeling it, it’s because you’re gone,” she said, tears coming to her eyes.

“You’re so beautiful.”

She blushed, and looked down. His fingers pushed her chin up, and she shivered as she looked into his eyes. With one hand gently holding her chin, the thumb stroking her cheek, he touched the other against her middle, sliding under her shirt. Her abs tensed at the touch, feather light and so soft.

“Xander,” she whispered.

“Moment of truth,” he said. Then slowly, far too slowly, his fingers went between the waistband of her jeans. The fit was tight, and she was beginning to breathe heavily. His fingers stroked past her short and trimmed pubic hairs, and she jerked and fell against him as they lightly slid against her clit.

Xander held her upright with one hand, the other in her pants, and whispered in her ear. “I think you forgot to put something on when you left the house.”

Buffy whimpered against his chest, and then gasped loudly as his finger slipped inside of her. The insistent intrusion seemed to pull her towards him, and she wrapped her arms around his bare chest to steady herself, drinking in the scent of his skin. “I didn’t!” she managed to groan.

“You sure?”

Buffy gathered her courage, and managed to look up at his face, even as her lower half rocked against the slow stroking of his fingers. “Xander?”

“Yeah?” He punctuated the word with a second finger, and she groaned.

“Stop asking me that?”

He smiled, lowered his head, and kissed her. Buffy threw her arms around his neck, and hung from him as he seemed to almost stagger forward, pressing her up against the door. She groaned loudly as her back slammed against it, and almost wished his fingers were gone so she could wrap her leg around his back. She dared not move a muscle, for fear that he would stop the slow in-out stroking, the almost casual control of her pleasure.

“Anything for you,” he whispered, and his free hand reached behind her, grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it off her body in one swift motion. Buffy let her arms raise quickly to assist him, and panted against him as she felt the hard points of her nipples press against his chest. “Lucky me that anything for you means anything for me.”

“Anything,” she groaned as he unbuttoned the fly of her jeans. He let them down partway, but instead of letting her take them off, left them bunched up around her knees, constricting her movement. His hand left her pussy, and she whined with the loss of it. The whine was cut off as he kissed her again, his large hands holding her around her trim waist, making her feel so small in comparison. As they broke apart, his hands came up to palm her breasts, kneading them softly. The gentle nature of it was torturous, and she could do nothing but groan quietly as he did.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he breathed in her ear. It was so unnecessary. She already knew that, but it made her hiccup a laugh/sob anyway, and she kissed him. Her tongue sought out his, pressing against his insistently, urging him silently to lose control. To take care of her, but to indulge in her all the same. To be the sweetest, kindest lover she could ever imagine. Sweet enough to understand her desires. Kind enough to let her experience them. Xander enough to love her no matter what.

Then he took a step back, away from her. She nearly fell over in the attempt to follow him. He held up his hand, and her breasts heaved as she breathed heavily, staring at him in confusion.

“Take off all your clothes.”

She licked her lips, and quickly kicked her shoes off, then stepped out of her jeans. Unsure of what to do next, she stood nude before him, arms crossed in front of her stomach.

“Lower your hands.”

She did, and felt a trickle of wetness drip down the inside of her thigh. Xander’s eyes took her in, scrutinizing her body and examining every detail. He approached her slowly.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, and touched her face. It was a soft and carressing touch, sliding smoothly down her jaw and the side of her neck, making her shiver ever-so-slightly. The hand continued down, over the curve of her breast, causing goosebumps to follow in its wake. He knelt slowly as he contiued down, tracing the muscles of her abdomen and sliding down against the strip of hair above her pussy. It continued down, the smooth touch growing slightly sticky as it passed through the wetness between her legs and down her her calf.

He rose, standing over her, taller than she ever realized he was. His body seemed to engulf her, seemed to overpower her, despite the knowledge that he was far weaker than she would ever be. In that moment, he seemed like the strongest person she’d ever met, and didn’t want that to ever change.

“I’ve seen every part of you,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “Do you understand what that means?”

She tried to, but she didn’t. She shook her head, and wondered why she was able to. He’d told her not to move. Xander raised his eyebrow slightly, and she wondered if he recognized the strangeness as well.

“It means that no matter what happens today, tomorrow, or from now on, I’ll always have seen who you are, Buffy. I’ll always know, and you’ll never have to hide it from me. You’ll never be able to hide it from me.”

Her stomach tightened, and she stared at his eyes. Yes. He would always know. It’s what made it so beautiful.

“It means that this won’t ever really go away,” he said. “That’s what I’ve been realizing. I’m making a commitment that goes beyond this reward, Buffy. For you, for Faith, for Anya, and especially for me. What we do now, it doesn’t change who we are, but it changes what we are. I will always, always have this. I will have always stood here staring at your body. Just like I will have always seen you more vulnerable than ever before. Just like I will have always seen you that night in the Master’s cave. Do you understand?”

She nodded slowly. “I think so.”

“It means,” he continued. “That…no one sees you the way I see you, Buffy. No one has ever seen you in all those moments. No one has seen you strong, weak, beautiful and ugly. No one has seen you gasping for life, no one has seen you gasping for pleasure, no one has seen you cry and laugh and scream and shout the way I have. No one ever has, and I don’t think anyone ever will.”

He cupped her face, and gently pulled her forward. She stepped to him easily, unafraid.

“You’re my hero. You’re my friend. You’re my inspiration. You’re my love. You’re my worst nightmare and my most beautiful dream. I’m not me without you. And now you’re always going to be mine, I’ll always have a piece, Buffy.”

She realized. Realized that this was far more important than she expected, and realized that it meant far more than she could have ever known. This was, one way or the other, forever. Xander owned a piece of her.

“And you’ll always have a piece of me,” he said, bringing his forehead to hers.

“Always,” she whispered, and he kissed her again, wet and sweet.

“You’re all of those things,” he said quietly, stroking her face. “And now more. My slave. My pet. My toy.”

She shivered to hear the words, and nodded slightly with each word, desperate for permission to move against him, for him to let her slip the bonds of his will and embrace him.

“But mostly,” he said, “You’re my Buffy. My greatest treasure.”

Then he scooped her up in his arms, picking her up. As if it was understood that the order was done, Buffy put her arms around him, silently wondering at how exactly his orders worked. Xander seemed to follow her line of thinking.

“We should do some testing with the orders,” he said as she rested her head against his shoulder, her naked form soft against his. “But not now. We don’t have a lot of time before we’re supposed to be at the shop.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, enjoying the feel of being in his arms. Strong, gentle arms that held her firmly and safely. She breathed through her nose, already addicted to his smell.

“Instead, how about we go into the bedroom where there are two other people who are allowed to play with your breasts?”

She groaned and hugged him tightly. “Yes, please.”

Xander nodded, hefted her slightly up, and carried her into the bedroom, his Treasure smiling shyly against his shoulder all the while.