The Cure

Author: Lori Bush <lwbush[at]>

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, etc. owns Buffy. You know the routine.

Summary: Buffy's having a difficulty she thinks she knows the cure for.

Pairing: B/X erotica and angst

Rating: NC-17

Author's notes: This is to be the first in a series of stories. It will explore the difficulties of trying to maintain a purely physical relationship, particularly when one person is setting the rules and the other doesn't really agree to them. Of course, there's also a certain level of misunderstanding involved. It owes a debt to Shawn (Ozmandayus), who has used a similar concept in a different way, and a J/G (Xena) writer named Xebbie, who wrote a series called "Pillow Talk" that sort of inspired this.

I'm not totally comfortable writing sex scenes, so the following stories may not come out all that quickly.

Buffy Summers was quite possibly the strongest woman alive. She was the Vampire Slayer. With that package came enhanced physical strength, increased speed and hearing, even supernatural sensitivity. She could bend iron bars and lift small vehicles (which she'd done recently for Willow when she had a flat and discovered she'd lost the jack for her Volkswagen). She'd survived when her boyfriend became an evil demon and tried to kill her and everyone she knew, succeeding with one of her favorite teachers. She'd kept going when she killed him, sent him to Hell, saw him return and then watched him leave her again, voluntarily. She'd even died twice, brought back the first time by a dear friend, the second by - she wasn't sure what the Powers That Be were, but 'friend' was a word that never crossed her mind.

Right now, Buffy was not well. Her knees were weak. She was having trouble breathing, and the wall was all that was holding her up. Her frail state wasn't illness, really. Or even the fault of Sunnydale's latest Big Bad. There were no demons in spitting distance, as far as she knew. It was daylight - no vampires around. She supposed she could be under a spell, but she was afraid she knew exactly who and what had cast it.

She'd just watched her best friend and current housemate, who was unaware she was watching, leave the bathroom and wander down the hall to his bedroom.

Her strength had given way at the mere sight of Xander Harris clad in nothing more than a towel.


It had been hard at first, returning from the dead. She'd been a bit numb for a while, just absorbing the fact that life had gone on, and that she'd been six feet underneath the soil while it had, for several months. She was emotionless and mechanical, and no one had worked harder at breaking through her shell to see if the real Buffy was inside than Xander.

Dawn was irrationally angry with her; Willow had become absorbed in her majiks, almost seeming unconcerned that her friend had returned. Giles had already moved back to England, and although he'd been thrilled when the call came announcing Buffy's reanimation, he'd started a new life already and was reluctant to give it up. And Spike - well, he'd only barely managed to fit her definition of 'friend' in the past, and honestly, he still kind of spooked her.

So Xander had taken Buffy-tending up as almost a full-time job. He'd already been the one, it appeared, who'd held the world together after she'd died. Little things like getting Willow to reprogram the Buffy-bot to handle Dawn's school situation, therefore avoiding the difficulties that would be rampant once both Hank Summers and the authorities found out the teenager was living alone. Although she wasn't - she'd moved into Xander's guest room, and they'd been scrambling to pay the mortgage and otherwise keep up the house on Revello Drive in order to maintain appearances. The Buffy-bot was stored there, and had been programmed to do minor housekeeping, too. Xander also patrolled and made up schedules for Spike and the witches to follow, which they all did, reluctantly.

And Buffy was saddened to see the price her friend had to pay. His grim determination to hold what remained of the world and people he'd loved together had cost him the future he'd wanted to build for himself. He'd missed a lot of work, and was put on probation. He was hanging on to gainful employment by his fingernails. Where once it seemed he might end up a crew chief or even overseer, now he was being "watched." And Anya had left him, tired of playing second fiddle to everything else, it seemed to her, on earth. The former loser known as Xander Harris seemed determined to re-emerge. His life was going down the drain until Buffy returned.

Once she was back, he'd systematically worked at and then succeeded in his quest to regain the Real Buffy. Little by little he'd dragged her back into life, making her laugh again, getting her angry - whatever it took to provoke a genuine reaction, he'd tried.

Buffy Anne Summers - once a name on a tombstone, then a cold cardboard caricature of herself, was now completely back. Dawn was warming again, the knockdown, drag out fight they'd had a few weeks before breaking through and allowing her to vent her anger finally. It had been Dawn's idea, not long afterwards, to ask Xander to move in. He could save money and help them out at the same time by sharing the mortgage payment, and Buffy had quickly agreed with the practicality of the plan. Xander hadn't been hard to convince either - she suspected the apartment reminded him of things best forgotten now.

Buffy had never considered how distracting it would be to have Xander under the same roof as her. It had been a long time since Riley left, and she'd been pretty much the local nun after that, both up to and since her death. Celibacy was not one of her gifts, she was quick to discover, although she'd managed to get by with her vibrator and an occasional run to the store for fresh batteries. But then he'd arrived - tall, dark, decidedly male and better looking than she remembered him being before. Better looking than he had a right to be, just being her best friend and all. And he smelled so good, and was so warm and so strong from his time doing heavy lifting, and dammit, the vibrator was just so cold and plastic!

He was single; she was single. He had to be getting pretty friendly with his own means of self-gratification, after the end of the sex-a-thon that had apparently been his life with Anya. There was no reason they couldn't help each other out.


"I." Buffy swallowed, finding her proposition harder to make than she thought. "Uhm. You're a guy. I'm a girl." It was a typical dateless Friday evening for both of them. Dawn was spending the weekend at a friend's house - it seemed the perfect time for this conversation, if there were such a thing as a perfect time for anything this awkward. "We live in the same house."

"I hadn't noticed," Xander smirked sarcastically. She glared at him, feeling a small triumph at his guilty expression.

"We both - have needs. And we both are without any significant other to fulfill those needs." She was rolling now, although it felt like she'd just lost control of a unbroken horse, and she had to follow it wherever it went, just along for the ride. "I don't know about you, but playing solos has sort of lost its charm for me, if you get my drift. We could take care of that for each other. You know - an arrangement."

"Are you suggesting I service you - sexually?" Xander's eyes had never been so wide.

"Each other," Buffy corrected, glaring slightly. "We'd just be helping each other out." Inside she was shrinking. She should have never brought it up - new batteries for the vibrator, never walk in the hall after Xander took a shower so she'd never see his completely tempting body - she'd get by. Why'd she ever think this might.?

"Okay." His face still wore an expression of shock, but he was nodding slowly. "I'm sure I'm going to wake up soon, and yet, I might as well go with it. This is the most realistic dream I've ever had, though." She pinched him, and he squealed. It was his turn to glare.

"You're awake," she said simply.

Still rubbing his arm, his expression grew serious. "So this is just kind of a 'friends with benefits' deal?"

Buffy nodded, finally losing the nervous twinges in her stomach. "Just casual sex."

"Casual. Okay. I won't get the tux cleaned and altered, then." He gave her that lopsided grin of his, the one that reawakened the clan of butterflies in her stomach, and asked, "When?"

His answer came in the form of a hundred pounds of Slayer launched into his arms, hands all over him, lips attacking his.



*Whoa!* Xander's brain gasped. *Why do I always end up with the direct-to-the-point types?* As she did a tongue-led examination of his rear molars, he felt Buffy's hands exploring the backside of his jeans, and he was pretty sure she didn't want to ascertain where he kept his wallet. In spite of the reason he was here, swapping spit with the girl who'd starred in a majority of his most graphic fantasies for the last several years, he wasn't sure he was ready quite yet for her to start exploring what he was keeping in the front of his jeans. Although he'd noticed that particular part of his anatomy was already willing to stand up and be counted. He reluctantly peeled her off his face. "Buffy!"

Why'd he stop her? She'd been having fantasies herself about this for some time now, and he was interrupting. The irrational hormone controlled part of her actually considered getting angry at him, but the small part of her brain that could still actually think reminded her that you don't seduce a guy by screaming at him, no matter how often you'd used that form of communication with him in the past. "Huh?" Besides, the body was too busy gearing up for fun to waste time talking right now.

"As much as I've tried to hide the fact, my libido doesn't always control me, and I want to make sure what's about to happen isn't a major mistake for either of us."

Her pounding blood was now singing to a brand new tune - fear. Her stomach lurched in an unpleasant twist. Xander would hate her. It had taken her forever to after graduation to worm out of him how used he'd felt by Faith, and here she was, doing pretty much the same thing. She'd had lots of time to think this over, to rationalize what she wanted to do, but he'd just been hit with the idea, and then her horny body. *Major mistake.* The words rang in her mind, taunting her with the fact of her screw-up. And she remembered how she'd felt after Parker. True, Parker hadn't even hinted that it was just about sex - she thought they were beginning a relationship of some kind. And she and Xander already had a relationship - which she had just quite possible changed fundamentally, and would never be able to.

"Buff?" She was shaken out of her mental panic by his confused voice. "I kinda thought we might talk about it first - with each other. Y'know - out loud?"

"I'm sorry," she babbled, "I didn't think it through enough. You obviously don't - I mean, I can't blame you, it's. well, I mean, I just thought, you alone, me, too, and."

"Whoa, Buff!" Xander held up his hand. "Easy, there - try forming a complete thought, see if it can translate into a complete sentence."

"You don't want to sleep with me." She hung her head in shame, "And I don't blame you."

"I said my libido didn't always control me - I never indicated it was dead. Who wouldn't want to sleep with you?" She raised her head, giving him a hesitant half-smile. It grew as he went on. "You're beautiful, smart, strong - not to mention the hottest body this side of - ever. Living in the same house with you has already rekindled some thoughts and fantasies I was sure I'd tucked away a long time ago, and now you seem to be intent on bringing them back to life in glorious Technicolor." He turned away, running his fingers through his hair. "I just don't understand - do I wear some kind of sign on my back that says 'Fuck me, I'm easy'?" He turned back and laughed a little nervously. "'Cos I'm thinking it might be true, but still." When she looked puzzled, he elaborated. "I mean, Faith took my cherry and threw me out the door, then tried later to kill me - strike one. Then Anya shows up in my basement one day, drops her dress, and that was about the extent of the discussion - that and some idea that sleeping with me would help her get over me. We all know how well that worked - or maybe it really did work, just kinda slowly. Two whole years slowly." A wistful expression crossed his face, and Buffy knew he was regretting how things had ended with the ex-demon. "Anyway," he seemed to shake himself out of it, "Strike two. I'd already be upstairs in your bed if I didn't care so much about you, Buff. I don't want you to be strike three."

"Oh, Xander." The Slayer walked over and stroked his arm in a caring fashion. "I've had my issues with past bed partners, too. Me and love and sex don't seem to be working well together. Angel, well, you know what happened after the first time. I don't want to think about Parker - I was so damned naive! I'm just lucky he had condoms, or I could've ended up with more than just wounded pride, the way he apparently got around. I bought his shit, hook, line and sinker. Riley. He was good. We were good together. But the Slayer package is a bit much for any guy to handle, and I really wasn't committed enough to the whole relationship to help him understand it all." Her expression grew soft. "You understand all that. You know what my life is like, having lived it beside me for the last almost seven years. You love me," Xander's heart froze at this - how did she know? He wasn't even completely sure until just a minute ago that was how he still felt about her. Then she went on, "But you aren't 'in love' with me." His heart thawed, flamed into ashes and fell to his feet in that instant. She still didn't know him. "I can't afford love - it seems to always end in disaster. That kind of love, anyhow." She looked in his eyes for understanding, but wasn't sure what it was she saw on his face instead. Still, he smiled weakly and nodded and she continued. "We live in the same house, so we wouldn't have to sneak around. I'm on the pill, so that wouldn't be an issue. I'm sure I'm clean, and since Anya had been celibate for what, a thousand plus years before you? I'm thinking you're okay. Uhm, Faith?"

Xander pulled himself from the fog that surrounded him over this discussion of sexually transmitted diseases with Buffy. "We, I - protection," he managed to choke out. "An and I used condoms, too, before she started the pill." How could he do this? He was in love with her - so much so, it hurt. *Just like when I was sixteen, all over again,* he thought. *Except now she wants to sleep with me, in a 'just friends, no love' kind of way.* As if that were possible. Still, when Anya left, Xander came to peace with one fact of his existence: he'd suffer, give up anything on earth, just to see Buffy happy and safe. If this was what she wanted, he'd do it. Another possible problem occurred to him. "What about Dawn?"

She smiled brightly. "Hence the timing of this proposition. She's the only one we'll have to sneak around. But she's not here all the time. She has sleepovers, and class trips, and there's just school. My schedule, and yours, is more flexible than that of Sunnydale High School, so we'll have plenty of times where it's just the two of us here. We'll just have to be ready to seize those moments." Buffy's smile grew a bit wicked. "If worse comes to worse, I shared a room with her until we moved to Sunnydale, and I know she sleeps very soundly."

"It sounds like you've given this a lot of thought."

She nodded firmly. "Absolutely. And?"

He moved fluidly across the space that separated them, and took her in his arms, kissing her before she could think. As her mouth opened in an involuntary gasp, he thrust his tongue in, and took control. It was a hot wet kiss, involving the lips, the tongues, even a bit of the teeth, and it left Buffy feeling dizzy when he finally broke it off. She grabbed a few labored breaths, and finally whispered, "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"


*Okay,* Xander thought, *kissing Buffy is ever so much better than my fantasies were. Wonder how making love - oops, fucking, no love allowed here - with her will be?* He could lie to her - he didn't love her that way. Could he lie strongly enough to convince himself? Probably not. Oh, well, time to let that old libido take the driver's seat.

Her hands were traveling again, and he turned his loose to do the same. Back, shoulders, oh my - what an ass! It felt even better than it looked, and it looked fabulous. He stayed there a while, massaging and grasping, as she did the same with his. His fingers slid down lower, and Buffy moaned into his mouth as they brushed over the Holy Grail. uhm, her pussy. She lifted a leg, hooking it around his and inviting him to touch her there again. But he didn't want to rush this, after all the years he'd waited for it, so he moved his hands away and up to her breasts. He felt her hesitate at the disappearance of his hands so close to her sex, and then she gasped when he rubbed them across her nipples, bringing them to eager attention. Her thin shirt and bra did little to hide their state from his fingers, although even his thick jeans couldn't hide his own arousal from her, anyway. Once again, he pulled away from her nearly hyperactive kiss. "Upstairs?" he managed to force out, and her eyes lit up. She turned and almost dragged him up to her room.

Once they were there, he stood, once again in shock over the situation in which he'd found himself. That was Buffy's bed. The bed that Buffy slept in, every night. The bed she'd sat on with him, and Willow, many a time during their younger years, watching television. The bed where, apparently, she'd "played solo" and fantasized about sex. The thought of Buffy masturbating was enough to drive out of Xander's brain the question of who she'd visualized in her mind when she'd.

*Oh, shit. She just took her shirt off.* The entire mental discourse he'd just been having fled his brain like a flock of pigeons approached by a hungry cat. Buffy was standing before him in nothing more than a skirt and her bra. And she'd just unhooked and slowly dropped the bra. He wasn't dreaming - maybe he'd been out on patrol, died, and she was heaven.

She was heaven. He'd been sure of that since the very first time he saw her. And now he was going to visit that glorious place, the heaven that was Buffy's body. Those beautiful Buffy breasts.

Xander considered himself somewhat of a breast connoisseur. Any man whose first experience with that part of female anatomy had been Cordelia Chase had an advantage few other men could dream of. For many reasons, two of them quite obvious, Cordelia's boobs were the Mt. Everest of teenaged boy-dom.

Cordy may have never let him into her pants, but her blouse was a different story. After all, one can only spend so much time in a broom closet without accidentally on purpose moving one's hands to what, by some more moralistic folks, might be considered the "wrong" place. When Cordelia had moaned instead of slapping him, he tried it again, much more purposefully. Before their relationship ended, he'd been inside of her bra so many times he could have auditioned for the part of boob if one of hers had needed time off. He'd never actually seen them, but he'd touched them on pretty much a daily basis. If he'd been stuck in a room blindfolded with a bunch of topless women, he could easily figure out which one was his ex without having to exchange a word.

But then they'd parted, and due to his brief period of interest in Willow's breasts (which he'd never actually touched, thankfully - things were awkward enough between the two of them for a while), among other parts of his childhood friend, and his even briefer interlude with Faith prior to her psychotic freak-out, he'd developed an appreciation for somewhat smaller challenges in the mammary department. Besides, Faith had taught him why some men claimed that "more than a mouthful is too much." Although it had been Anya who'd helped him refine his techniques in that area.

Before Buffy, he'd have claimed that An had the perfect sized breasts. They were a bit bigger than a mouthful - a good handful, and he had fairly large hands. Anya reassured him that the saying had originally been "handful" anyway - the orally fixated French had mangled it. She knew; she'd been there. But Buffy's were around the same size as Anya's, yet more perfect in every way.

He could wax poetic about Buffy's boobs for hours, but she'd moved closer and gently placed his hands on them. Mere thought quickly fled, and poetry would be asking a bit much at this point. Drooling might be a bit more elegant than he could manage right now. Fortunately, his fingers didn't need his brain to smooth over her nipples, perking them right up again. She bit her lip and squirmed, obviously struggling to hold onto her control. She was clearly not lying - this was one really horny Slayer he was fondling.

Xander massaged and brushed and tweaked until Buffy was panting. Somehow, during the process, she'd managed to unbutton his shirt, and when he moved his hands back to attempt a new angle, she pushed it off his shoulders and down his arms. Since this seriously limited his mobility, he shrugged the shirt quickly off and proceeded to the next part of his still-forming plan. He squatted down, the height difference between his tall frame and the Slayer's petite one bringing his head right in line with her breasts. He held her firmly but gently in place, and ran his tongue between her breasts, starting as high on her chest as he could reach and trailing down to nearly her navel. This time, she couldn't contain the vocal response as she moaned softly. He smiled as he retraced his path back up, this time veering off to lave the underside of her left breast thoroughly, receiving her obvious approval. Since his audience was appreciative, he went for the encore performance on the underside of the right breast. Her nipples were giving him a standing ovation. One he had to taste. Her gasp caused him to grin around his mouthful. *I wonder if sex is my supernatural gift?* he mused.

Buffy had never known the human tongue could do such wondrous things, and he still hadn't been anywhere below her waist. In her brief moments of lucid thought, she congratulated herself on choosing Xander as her sex partner, since he obviously was skilled. Angel had been experienced and gentle, but unwilling to cause her pain, almost afraid of her virginity, hesitant and tender. And there was that whole morning-after thing. Parker, well, he'd fondled her breasts some, a few licks, but in twenty-twenty hindsight, he'd been all about getting himself some ass, and the rest was just the means to that end. Her pleasure had been her own problem, pretty much. Riley had been rather, well, pleasant, but nothing to write home about. Good old no-frills, missionary position. Fine as far as it went, but basic. If just this small sample was any indication, Xander was the fully deluxe model, with all the bells and whistles. She was looking forward to upgrading to luxury class.

But he was doing all the work, and part of her reason for suggesting this arrangement was to participate in the fully interactive sexual experience. She backed her nipple out of his mouth, and the thing he was doing right then caused his teeth to catch, pulling painfully. So why did that cause a flash of heat to shoot into her sex? A thought to examine further at a later date.

Right now she wanted to examine Xander - intimately.

Grabbing his upper arms, she pulled him back to his feet, bringing his strong bare chest to her eye level. In a single move, she pivoted him around so his back was to her bed, and pushed him down, his surprise at the landing signaled by a soft grunt when he hit the mattress. He always kicked his shoes off at the front door, since vacuuming had become his job around the house and he was always looking for ways to make it less necessary, so she was able to fumble his belt open, get his zipper down and his pants to the floor fairly quickly. She ran her hands up his legs from the ankles, hitting an apparently ticklish patch in the upper thigh just before she saw the size of the treat that awaited her, still wrapped in his boxers.

*Remember what you always told Riley, Buff. Size doesn't matter; size doesn't matter.* She was trying not to be overwhelmed. But she had to admit, she'd love to find out if bigger was really better, and it appeared she was about to get her chance. "Nice," she said out loud, the first word either of them had spoken since they came upstairs. She kissed the plaid mountain before her, and Xander gulped and his cock jumped simultaneously. "I'll be back," she promised it, crawling up to sprawl across him, hungry to taste his lips again first.

They took turns dominating and submitting, the kiss switching leads back and forth faster than the ball at Wimbledon. Buffy's hips were rocking against his, and Xander seemed to have grown a couple of extra hands. It was fast, hot and mindless, and they were both getting carried along by the tide. Somewhere along the line he'd unzipped her skirt, and it was on the last part of its journey to her ankles. Her underwear was soaked, and his cock ached. *So this is it,* she thought, with a brief flash of fear. *Everything is about to change.*

She chased the thought away - her friendship with Xander had always been tinged with sexual tension, but it had never changed the fundamental closeness they had. This wouldn't either. She just needed someone - no, him, she finally admitted - so bad it hurt. Hurt, ache, need.

Buffy clawed off her panties and his boxers. She couldn't wait any longer. Pinning his shoulders to the bed, she prepared to sink down on top of his incredible erection, blind to anything but the sight, smell and feel of the man beneath her. "No," he choked out, stunning her out of her hormone crazed stupor.

"Huh?" She couldn't help it - her eyes welled with tears. "You don't want me?"

"NO! I mean, yes - I want you! I've never wanted anyone so much." He was straining to breathe, and certainly looked like he wanted her, which backed up his avowal. "Just - not on top. Not the first time." Her breath steadied, the tears abated, and she looked at him curiously.

"Faith," he muttered glumly, reminding her how like the dark slayer she could sometimes be. Her face flushed with embarrassment at the realization, but he gently rolled her over to her back and flicked his tongue over her nipple once more, tearing her away from her guilt. "Got to re-establish the mood here," he joked, and she realized it was as much to cover his own embarrassment as hers. Soon he was working his mouth again eagerly over her breasts, and his hand had moved down to her wet sex. He slid two fingers into her at once, and the sensation was so thrilling that her body jerked in response.

"Ohhh," she moaned, just losing herself in the motion of his hand, pumping her steadily. Good, so good. But not enough. "Need something," she gasped out, "bigger." Simultaneously, she grasped his rock hard cock and pumped once in retaliation, eliciting an animalistic moan from him, too.

"Buffy," he whispered, soft as a prayer. He moved his knees between hers and she spread her legs welcomingly. Her hand still grasping his length, she guided him into her sopping opening, catching her breath again at the width of him as he entered her. He was stretching her beyond anything she'd ever imagined, and again the pain/pleasure connection took effect. She looked at his face and wondered if the same thing was happening with him. His eyes were closed, and she could see the sparkle of liquid on his lashes. He was biting his lower lip, and quite possibly holding his breath. She knew she was holding hers. It felt like they were poised on the edge of the universe, about to jump into the unknown.

So Buffy jumped.

She rocked her hips up hard, taking the length of him in suddenly, and squealing at the sudden fullness. Xander's eyes flew open, and he wore a momentary expression of shock, but quickly his own hips began to automatically move as well, and the shock melted into ecstasy. They moved almost silently for a few minutes, the only sound the squeak of the mattress and their wordless groans and whimpers. Then she lifted her legs higher, wrapping them around his waist, and she felt him go even deeper into her. It ignited a dark fire, and she was awash in her need. "Harder," she demanded.

He knit his brows together, determination on his face. He seemed bent on driving her into the mattress and out through the bottom of the box spring, and Buffy tried to match him, thrust for thrust. His body shifted as he raised one hand from supporting himself to play with her nipple once more, and when he straightened the other arm, the change in angle caused his cock to rub repeatedly over what was fast becoming the most sensitive spot her body had ever known. "Faster," she begged, her voice high and unrecognizable in her own ears.

He once again supported himself with both arms straight, this time, his cock still rubbing that place. The pressure, the tension was building in her, but she was trying to hold back, not willing for this to be over too soon - not willing for it ever to end. But her body was like a tidal wave, rushing against her restraints, pushing her ever closer.

And the dam broke.

"Aiiii!" she screamed, as the room nearly spun and her body stiffened, every ounce of her energy poured into the massive climax she was experiencing. "My, my..." she panted breathlessly, the sensations now abating slightly, but still there. And Xander kept pumping, and amazingly, her body clenched again, and a smaller, but equally stunning rush washed over her the second time. She felt his rhythm change, and his breathing became harsh, and then he stilled, and the only movement she felt was his cock spurting in pulses within her sensitive walls. She thought she heard him whisper her name, but her own drumming heart almost drowned out the sound.

Xander felt her stiffen, and the increased throbbing pressure around his cock as she screamed told him what he already knew. He'd made Buffy come, and she didn't seem like she was going to stop real soon. He held on for dear life, but he knew he was only moments away from joining her, and sure enough, she had only barely begun to calm down when he exploded within her. The idea of who he was filling made the orgasm twice as strong, and he couldn't yell, couldn't moan, couldn't do anything more than gasp out her name quietly. His arms gave out, and he collapsed atop her, rolling off after a moment.

He thought he could talk now. "Good?" Okay, not in entire sentences yet, but.

"Yeah," she said, her voice full of wonder. He looked over, and she was staring at the ceiling with a funny little half-smile on her face. She cut her eyes towards him and smiled a bit more. "Twice."

"Give me a few minutes, Buff. I don't think I'm up to."

"No," she stopped him, grinning. "I already did. Twice."

He grinned sort of absently at her, then the meaning of the words struck him, and his eyes widened. "Just now? I mean, one after another?"

She nodded, a superior smile on her face. "I love being a girl."

His head dropped back to the pillow. "Wow." She wasn't sure if he was surprised by her abilities or his own. Then he looked over at her again, and his face was somewhat troubled. "You want me to..." He waved vaguely towards his own room, looking around to see where his clothing had landed.

"Naw," she answered, missing the look of relief that flashed across his expression. "Stay here. Dawn won't be back until Sunday afternoon, and it'll be nice, not to sleep alone for a couple of nights." The implicit invitation for Saturday night wasn't lost on Xander, either. Buffy rolled over and laid her head on his shoulder, pressing her naked body to his side and fell promptly and without ceremony to sleep.

Xander wrapped his arm around the body of the woman he loved, feeling her back rise and fall with each even breath. Kissing the top of her head, he tried to relax, but his heart was half soaring, half breaking. *I love what we just did. I love the idea of sleeping with you in my arms. I love you - but if I want all this to continue, I'll never be able to tell you.* Finally closing his eyes, he drifted into a dreamless and sound, but not terribly restful, sleep.


Buffy woke in the pre-dawn hours, feeling warm and good and loved in the arms of. *Riley? No, omigod.*

Her eyes flew open, and all the events of the previous night came back to her. She felt breathless, frightened and more than a little turned-on by the memories. Apparently, she and Xander had moved little during the night, since her head was still resting on his shoulder, and her arm draped across his chest, rising and falling with his every heavy breath.

What had she done? They were just friends, after all, and you didn't sleep with your friends. Although she wouldn't trade the experience of last night for all the money in the world, it wasn't worth their friendship.

Still, Xander was a grown man (*What a man!* her mind rudely interrupted). He'd made the choice as much as she had, and she knew he was no longer the hormone driven seventeen-year-old he'd once been. She hadn't given him a lot of time to think about it, but she was reasonably sure it was a rational decision for him, too. There was no going back now. Should they go forward?

He shifted slightly, and she thought he might be waking up. The more she thought of last night, the more she wanted that, or something very like that, to happen again. They'd done what they'd done. If they did it a couple more times this weekend, it wouldn't change anything, would it? She'd decide on the long-term issues after Sunday.

Xander woke up completely in an instant, having not been very deeply asleep for a while. He cast his eyes, without moving his head, down to the woman in his arms, and he could see she was awake, although lost in thought. *Probably trying to figure out how to tell me this was all a mistake.* He actually agreed completely.

Worst mistake he ever made. If he doubted last night whether he still loved her, he now knew for sure. He loved her so much that if she asked him to tear out his heart and lay it at her feet, he'd be clawing at his chest in a moment. And he knew he should never make love to her again, because it would only get worse. And he knew that the minute she asked him to do it again, he would. He also knew he was, in the near future, going to develop acting skills that would win him a whole roomful of awards no matter which way things went after this. But he would be the only member of the audience aware it was a show.

"Hey." She was looking up at him with her big blue-green eyes, and he tried not to fall in.

"Mornin' Buff."

*Let the show begin.*