Do You Like Cheese?
Other fan fiction by Alexandra Huxley

SPOILER: Takes place after "Pangs" (Buffy, 4th season) and "I Will Remember You” (Angel, 1st season); but before "Something Blue” (Buffy, 4th season).

Warnings and disclaimers:
1) If you're a Riley hater, don't bother reading this fic; everyone else, enjoy.
2) The characters in this piece belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Inc., and a lot of other people who are not me.
3) This fic is NC-17.

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This story has been nominated at The Funnies. Go see ->

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AUTHOR'S NOTES: This fic was written in response to the FinnSmut challenge. If you know the challenge, you know the chair that plays a role in this story. Major thanks to Moe for sponsoring the Spring Fling Fanfic Contest and therefore getting me off my butt to finish it after I let it sit around for four months. Incidentally, it won the contest’s Bondage Fun award. (My mom is so proud.) Thanks also to Cynthia for the beta read. Without further ado: my Riley muse wanted to go back to more innocent times – when the demons were external and the world wasn’t gray. Please join us (me and my muse, of course) as we return to a time of anticipation, hope and just a little bit of cheese…

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Did Willow tell you I like cheese?

Did he really say that? There’s no way he could really have said that. But no matter how many times he reran the conversation through his mind, the same words kept popping up.

Well, at least she didn’t totally walk away. And she had invited him for Thanksgiving dinner. That was promising.

Riley finished unpacking and threw the empty bag up on the shelf. He had only been home for two days, but his mom had managed to send him back to school with enough food to feed a family for a week. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it all. He didn’t want to put it in the fridge downstairs – it was too good to let the animals in this house get their hands on it. And the fridge in his room could barely handle the turkey, much less all the extras.

Maybe he could finally get the nerve up to ask Buffy on a date. He could use the leftovers as an excuse. A picnic. In the field behind the Psych building.

Sure. And what exactly was he going to say to her? I don’t have cheese, but I hope you like turkey? He was going to have to come up with something better. So far he hadn’t been stellar in the Buffy conversation department. And he was NOT going to ask Forrest for advice; Forrest already had enough ammo.

Riley knew he should go downstairs and see if anything new had happened with Hostile 17 while he was away, but Walsh could practically smell when he walked in the building. He may as well try to get something done in the time before she called.

He took out a stack of papers that he had brought all the way to Iowa and back. That had been a waste. He never got schoolwork done at home, not when the family was around; but the actual act of carrying it with him half-way across the country made him feel like he had at least tried to accomplish something. He sat down at his desk and had gotten through four quizzes when the phone rang.

“Agent Finn. We have a situation down here.”

“On my way.”

Thirty-two minutes. A record. Usually he didn’t get more than 15 minutes to himself. Either it was really slow or really busy. He hoped it was the former and that he’d be done soon. He'd been planning to hang around the Commons for a while, just in case Buffy walked by.

He met Forrest and Graham on the stairs. “Hostile 17?”

“I don’t ask; they don’t tell,” Forrest said as they stood in front of the mirror and waited as the scanner did its job. “How’s the homestead? Did you kill the turkey yourself or did you make your mom do it?”

“Mom. Most definitely,” Riley said. Headless turkeys freaked him out.

Forrest laughed and shook his head. “How’d you ever get into this line of work, John-Boy?”

The elevator doors opened and they walked in.

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Buffy was not in the mood for this. Her Thanksgiving had sucked enough already. Between aborted meals and a frustrating visit with Angel, followed by the requisite elaborate, erotic dream - which had made her horny as all get out, by the way - the last place she wanted to be was sitting here on some cold metal chair in a cold, dark room.

And that wasn’t even the worst part; no, the worst part was that she was going to have to hear Spike say, 'I told you so.' She’d do just about anything to avoid that.

“Hey! Commando boy! Take me to your leader,” she yelled. G.I. Joe was just standing there at the door. He hadn’t moved in the 20 minutes since they had taken her here. “I’ll make it worth your while. I won’t kick your ass too much.”

She should just break the straps and get it over with, but as long as she was down here, she would play along and see what these guys were up to. Take that, Spike. “A hundred bottles of beer on the wall, a hundred bottles of beer…” The soldier started to squirm as she sang. She sang louder.

It was somewhere under the campus, near the woods. She had been fighting three Calvaki demons when they tagged her. Well, they tagged one of the demons first, and it fell on top of her. It wasn’t until she came up fighting – and throwing the demon’s body at one of the commandos in the process – that they actually shot her, too.

She had only been stunned for a few minutes, not long enough for them to take her too far. She vaguely remembered being carried into the woods and then down some stairs before she came out of it. She knew she had taken at least two of them down before they stunned her again and brought her here.

She looked around the room, taking in the details. Giles was going to want a full report, and she was damned if she was going to walk out of here without getting something more than Spike had.

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“Status?” Riley asked the soldier who met them at the elevator.

“Three hostiles are contained in the cell and one’s in the chair.”

That made no sense. “The chair? Why the chair? That’s not protocol.”

“She’s feisty sir. We had no choice.”

Riley raised his eyebrows at the soldier as they walked. “She? How do you know it was a she?”

“Never mess with an angry Momma…” Forrest muttered under his breath from right behind Riley.

The soldier was staring straight ahead. “It was pretty obvious, sir.”

“Obvious maybe, but I doubt it was pretty, ” said Forrest.

They came to a halt as they reached Walsh’s station. She was wearing her white coat as always. “Welcome back. Sit.”

They sat down and opened the folders that were on the table in front of each seat.

Walsh leaned back against her desk as she spoke. “Calvaki demons. Nasty. Big. Strong. Always work as a team. Makes it hard to take them down.”

“The men did well then. Not bad for the second string.” Riley looked up to find Walsh staring at him. Hard.

“There was a complication,” Walsh said. “Agent Perry?”

Riley turned to look at Perry. He was one of the new guys – had just started in September. He showed a lot of promise; it was a big deal for a new guy to command a team, especially when there was a hostile on the loose.

“There was someone else with them. A girl. She was fighting them.”

“Of course, she’d fight them. This is Sunnydale – the girls around here tend to fight back,” Forrest said.

“You should know,” muttered Graham as Walsh glared at them.

Perry looked at Walsh and waited for her nod before continuing. “No, not fighting back. Fighting them. We had to use two blasters to take her down. She still laid out two of our guys. We couldn’t make it as far as the labs.”

So maybe the second string didn’t do so well after all. Riley asked, “What kind of demon is she?”

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Buffy had gotten through “A Hundred Bottles of Beer” and was now on to the soundtrack of Grease, going heavy on the Sandy parts. The commando was still at the door and, apart from some not-very-well-concealed shaking, which she was assuming was laughter – her voice wasn’t quite bad enough to send someone into convulsions – he hadn’t moved. She figured it was only a matter of time before someone with some authority would come for her. Then she could get to the bottom of this.

She wriggled in the seat, testing the strength of the straps. It wasn’t that they were too strong, it was more that she couldn’t get the right leverage to loosen them, mainly thanks to the metal shackles at her biceps and thighs; those would take a little more concentration. It would probably hurt like hell but she could do it if she had to.

Maybe.

Glancing at the commando again, she settled back into the chair. “Summer Lovin'” was up next and she had to really pay attention to the words for that one because she always mixed up the verses. And it wouldn’t hurt to do a little daydreaming while she was waiting for whoever would be coming. She had told Angel it was time to move on. No time like the present to get started. When she closed her eyes, the images from her dream came back clearly; instead of pushing them aside, she let her body remember the sensations. But she put her mind to imagining a different face.

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Riley sat back in disbelief. “A freshman?”

“You see the problem,” Walsh replied. “This is a serious situation. What are our options?”

Forrest asked, “Quarantine?”

Walsh shook her head. “I don’t want to take her to the labs – it’s too late now. She’s already seen too much.”

“Maybe the Professor here can examine her, he needs a little action.” Forrest nodded his head towards Riley.

“I don’t think so…” Riley said, his voice trailing off as he noticed that Walsh wasn’t disagreeing. “I’m not even in uniform,” Riley protested. “Forrest is so much better at this…”

“Civvies are better for this one,” Walsh said. “The less official this is, the better. Find out if the demons tagged her and if she’s clean, then get her out of here. I don’t want her seeing anymore of this place than she already has.”

“And how exactly…? What should I tell her?” That was usually taken care of by the doctors in the infirmary through a combination of drugs and hypnosis. The civilians that made it that far mostly didn’t want to believe what they had seen, so it was rarely a problem to get them to believe the cover stories. But this girl had already seen too much for that to be a solution. So how was he going to explain demons, armed men, and a metal chair that looked like something out of the Spanish Inquisition? And get close enough to figure out the extent of her injuries? She may be a freshman, but even freshmen weren’t that naïve.

“You’ll think of something." Walsh turned her back. "Dismissed.”

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Riley tried to ignore Forrest’s steady stream of comments as they walked deeper and deeper into the tunnels. The girl had seen the demons up close – the usual 'wild bear' thing wasn’t going to cut it, not that he could understand how anyone could believe that one. They usually got away with it, though.

Plus she was probably going to be traumatized – how anyone could justify what was essentially an assault and kidnapping…? Thinking under pressure was clearly going to need to be added to the training schedule. The guys who did this were going to be paying for that mistake for, well, for as long as Riley could get away with it – Walsh didn’t always agree with his views on handling the civilians that got caught in the crossfire. And she was the boss after all.

So this poor girl was now being held in some cave in the bowels of the campus after being taken prisoner by four armed men, well, two, given the fact that she’d taken out two of them.

That had to have been just dumb luck. The soldiers must’ve been getting their asses kicked by the demons and just didn’t want to admit it. Probably knew they’d already screwed up enough.

Besides, she’d gotten blasted – twice. Twice. How the…? There was no way it could have gone down that way. There must have been something wrong with the blasters. They must not have had enough juice. It took hours to recover from a blaster hit. And that was if you were a huge, solid block of muscle.

He was so caught up in his internal dialogue that he didn’t notice the singing until the door was practically right in front of him.

… Lous-y with vir-gin-i-ty. Won’t go to bed ‘til I’m legally wed. I can’t – I’m Sandra Dee…

“Is she…? Is she singing?” Graham asked, incredulous.

“That’s being generous…” Forrest said, as they came upon the soldier sitting on the floor outside the chamber.

A.J. jumped to attention as he saw the men approach. Or tried to. “Sorry,” he gasped, dissolving into laughter. “I can’t… I had to leave…” he sputtered. “She hasn’t stopped…”

His laughter was infectious, and Forrest and Graham tried to hide their grins as they could hear more from inside: Watch it! Hey – I’m Doris Day. I was not brought up that way...

Riley glared at all of them. So maybe she wasn’t traumatized, but there wasn’t anything funny about this. And he still had to figure out how to explain it all away. Exasperated, he said over her singing, “A little help? Anyone have an even semi-plausible explanation for all this?”

…Won’t come across, even Rock Hudson lost …

Forrest now had a huge smile on his face. He clearly was under the impression that this couldn’t get much better. “Too bad, brother. Doesn’t seem like you’ll need to be soothing any fears. Sounds like she’s having a grand old time.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re enjoying this,” Riley said, pacing. “Et tu, Graham?” he asked as Graham’s smile escaped, too.

Riley turned his back on them and walked in the other direction. O.k. This didn’t need to be hard. And the fact that she didn’t seem scared out of her wits was definitely a bonus. He just needed to figure out something to say about the storm trooper thing, the blasters, the caves and the chair. No biggie.

Yeah, right. After this, trying to come up with some way to ask Buffy out would be a piece of cake.

He looked at the others. They were beyond useless. Forrest and Graham had now joined A.J. and any illusion of composure was gone. They were now feeding off each other’s inanity, clearly enjoying Riley’s predicament as much as the lusty performance coming from the other side of the door. Looking much more like drunken frat boys than the highly trained soldiers that they were.

Drunken frat boys. O.k. That could work. Drunken frat boys who played with dangerous toys. Could happen. Not in Riley’s fraternity, of course. No, he just happened to be out for a walk and stumbled upon this cave.

Sure. O.k.

Not o.k. Not o.k. at all. Completely full of holes.

Screw it. Between her singing and their laughing, his brain wasn’t going to come up with anything better. Besides, this was right up Forrest’s alley. “Listen up,” Riley said, not catching the soldiers’ attention in the least bit.

Riley summoned up the most commanding tone he could muster. “Listen up. Forrest – you’re with me. This is all some crazy frat prank, got it? Just keep that mouth running and I’ll play off you. A.J. – change out of your gear, ditch the blaster, and get back here so you can help Graham keep the tunnels clear. There are still teams out there and this is already too complicated. I don’t want to run into anyone that snaps to attention if they see us.”

He looked at Forrest. “Let’s move.”

Forrest nodded and started talking about how the crazy Lambda Pi Alpha’s needed to get their hazing under control before it got somebody hurt.

Riley shook his head as he looked at Forrest in amazement. “You could’ve told me you already had a story going,” he said under his breath as he opened the door.

Forrest just looked at him, a glint in his eye, never breaking his stride, fully getting into his story now, talking about reporting LPA to the Greek Council, how they screwed it up for everyone…

Forrest’s words faded to background as Riley walked into the dark room. There was a weird blue light coming from somewhere, he was damned if he knew where. The chair was standing alone in the middle of the room, facing the wall to their right as they walked in.

She was totally into it now – eyes closed and belting out: “Elvis! Elvis. Let me be. Keep that pelvis far from…” She looked up as she heard the metal door slam shut, the shock on her face mirroring his. “Riley?”

“Buffy?” Riley’s voice cracked as he said her name. It was painfully obvious because Forrest had stopped talking.

Forrest had actually stopped talking – Riley couldn’t remember that ever happening. Buffy, however, didn’t seem fazed. She seemed to have recovered and was talking again.

“Did you get a hair cut?” she asked, completely fazed, actually, having just been thinking that if it were Riley’s pelvis on her, she would certainly not be pushing him away. “It’s not quite as floppy,” she said, stalling for time. Forget the pelvis thing – what was he doing here?

“What?” he asked. His brain had completely stopped working. His entire vocabulary had dwindled down to the words: “Oh, shit” and “Buffy.”

“So much better. The Teen Beat look doesn’t really do it for you.” Well this was absolutely no good. How was she going to hide the Slayer thing from him if he kept finding her in these predicaments? Although sitting on a bench in a clearing was a pretty normal thing. Except for the stake part.

“What?” he asked again. If Forrest hadn’t given him a shove from behind, he would have forgotten he was capable of walking, too.

How exactly was she going to explain this, she thought as they came closer. She could imagine what this looked like.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” she said, watching Riley’s reaction. He seemed completely freaked out. Good bye, Mr. Normal, once again. Those commando guys were so going to pay for this.

Riley forced himself out of the fog that had taken over his head. “What does it look like?” he asked, for lack of anything better to say.

“Looks like some kinky sex game to me,” Forrest said, completely gratified by Riley’s head whipping around in response. Forrest came back at him with a look of complete innocence, wishing so much that Graham could be here to see this. This one was going down in Lowell House history even if Riley did seem to be off the hook. Why this girl was so calm about sitting in some cave strapped to a metal chair was completely beyond Forrest, but hell, if she was going to try and explain it away, may as well let her.

“Exactly!” Buffy said with a resounding nod, not realizing what she had just said until Riley’s head whipped back around at her. “I mean, that’s exactly what it looks like, but it so isn’t.”

Way to go, Buffy, she told herself. All right, so maybe explaining her way out of this wasn’t going to work. Maybe she should just cut her losses and have them think they had rescued her. She could come back for the commandos some other day. Especially now that she knew where they were.

“So, um, you think maybe you could help me get out of here?” she asked. No need to let them know that she was perfectly capable of doing that by herself. Except maybe for the things around her arms and legs, but she would have figured it out if she had to.

One look was enough to tell Forrest that Riley was already in way over his head with this girl. And with Riley’s notions of proper and right there was no way he would capitalize on this situation without a little help. Forrest walked over to the chair, pretending to examine it. “Let’s take a look,” he said. “Riley? You ever seen anything like this before?”

Forrest was going to pay for this, Riley thought. As soon as this was over, he was going to pay. “It doesn’t look too complicated,” Riley said, glaring at Forrest over Buffy’s head as he walked over to join them.

Forrest bent down and leaned behind the chair. “Looks like we’ll need something to cut this,” he said, tugging at the strap that was wrapped around the middle of the chair. “And these,” Forrest said, running his hand down the metal brackets that were holding Buffy’s arms in place. “I’m not sure what to do about these. Could take a while.”

Riley knew that Forrest had experience with the chair. He crouched down across from Forrest and tried not to notice that he was close enough to Buffy to smell her – her shampoo, her skin, and something else he couldn’t quite identify but that set his blood stirring. “There’s got to be a release of some kind,” he said, looking at it pointedly while trying to figure out where Forrest was going with this.

“Umm, guys? Maybe we could speed this up?” This was getting frustrating, Buffy thought. If they would only leave she could break her way out.

Well, maybe they could figure out how to get the metal things taken care of first. And having two fine male specimens within breathing distance wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. Bad Buffy – should have used the down time in the chair to think about the Psych final instead of getting naked with Riley.

Riley peeked his head around. “Sorry. This’ll just take a minute.”

Buffy nodded as his head disappeared from view. She had been planning to mention that the reason for hurrying was because of the guys with the guns, but that thought was forgotten entirely as she noticed how nice his eyes were. Amazing what trimming an inch off the front can do for someone. She had never noticed how beautiful he was before. Cute maybe, in a dorky kind of way that had been more than sufficient for her fantasy life, but – wow. She jumped when his head reappeared right in front of her.

“Are you – uh – o.k.?” he asked. She seemed absolutely fine, but maybe she was in shock. These were pretty weird circumstances to be in and yet she really didn’t seem to be upset.

She looked into his eyes. Definitely wow. “Huh?” Eyes she could easily get lost in. “Oh. Yeah. Fine, thanks.” Dumb answer, she thought after he nodded and ducked away again. She was so bad at playing damsel in distress. Most girls would probably be a little more wigged in this situation. She was trying to think of a way to explain the “fine” when they stood up and the one who wasn’t Riley said…

“I’m gonna run up to our house and grab some stuff to get you out of this. Riley will stay with you so you won’t be alone.” Forrest ignored Riley’s look and walked to the metal door as fast as he could without being too obvious. If Riley caught him, the ass kicking would be brutal. He backed up against the door, knocking against it twice as he shouted, “Back soon!” The door opened and he jumped back through it, giving Riley a wicked grin as Riley almost reached him.

Riley got to the door right as it slammed shut. He banged on it twice. “Forrest!” He banged on it again. He could vaguely hear Forrest right outside the door but fading fast, no doubt telling Graham about what he most certainly saw as an opportunity.

Riley knocked his head against the door, silently cursing Forrest and everyone who’d ever known him. And Walsh – there was no way she didn’t know it was Buffy. She could have at least warned him. Graham, too, for that matter – Graham was always so nice and quiet that people didn’t see the evil streak that ran through him. There’d be no help coming from that direction.

Evil. All of them.

He turned around to see Buffy watching him. “Door doesn’t seem to open from the inside,” he said sheepishly, looking away to avoid her intense gaze.

Of course it would open quite easily if he had his i.d. card with him – the one that he was supposed to have with him at all times for security overrides and things like this very situation he was now in. He should have had it with him, of course, but lately his mind had been so filled with Buffy thoughts that he was lucky he remembered how to get to and from his room.

This was so not good.

“How’d he get out?” she asked suspiciously.

“It must not have been shut all the way.” Please let her not remember that it had slammed shut when they came in. He didn’t think she had noticed Forrest’s knocking the door, Forrest had at least yelled loudly enough to cover it. No, this could not be any worse, he thought, walking back to Buffy.

“So, this is interesting,” she said, trying to remember how the commando guy had gotten out. She had been heavily into “Greased Lightning” at the time, but she did remember him flashing a key card of some kind. There wasn’t any obvious panel for it; it was probably hidden in the wall.

“Where’d you go?” she asked as she realized Riley had disappeared.

His voice came from behind her, “Hold on, I think I’ve got this…”

She heard something click and the pressure from the metal brackets on her arms and legs released. “How’d you do that?” she said with some surprise. “I thought he said…”

“Yeah, Forrest can be a little dense sometimes,” Riley said. If only.

Buffy watched as he grabbed onto the bar that her arm was attached to and pulled himself up. She felt a jolt run through her as his hand touched the bare skin of her arm and he played with the bracelet thingy, jiggling it until it had opened up completely.

“One down,” he said, flashing her a quick grin as he reached over to the other side.

“Thanks,” she said, her view suddenly blocked by his chest. She took a deep breath, inhaling a mixture of sweat and aftershave and all around male-ness. That smell – and that chest – would certainly be good for a few more daydreams. His hands were on her again and she was almost disappointed when her other arm was free.

“Two down,” he said.

She followed his glance down to her thighs and she was sure he could hear her heart thud as he came back up and met her eyes. “Two to go,” she said, a little more breathlessly than she would have liked. If his hands felt like that on her arms, then this was definitely going to be good.

Riley crouched down, trying to think of her as just some random demon instead of Buffy Summers, the subject of almost every waking thought – and more than a few sleeping ones – he had had in recent memory.

“Sorry,” he said as she tensed when his hand touched her thigh. “I have to, ummm…” He nodded in the general direction of her waist. He could feel the heat radiating from between her legs. He tried to ignore the heat he was generating on his own, but it didn’t do much good. There was pretty much nothing he could think about right now that would be enough of a distraction.

“It’s o.k.,” she said, feeling all shaky inside. More than o.k. The life of a Slayer was funny that way: three demons and four men with guns had done absolutely nothing to faze her but a few minutes with a boy had turned her into one big, quivering bundle of nerves. She tried to think of something to say that would break the tension, make it seem like this was just your normal, every day, running into each other thing.

“So I’m starting to get the bondage thing,” she said, her voice cracking a bit on ‘bondage.’

All right, that wouldn’t have been the right thing, she thought as his eyes came up quickly and he turned about three shades of red.

Well, there’s the answer to that question, he thought. Yes, it is possible to get harder. He looked away from her again and back down at the metal restraint that he had been staring at with more than a little dismay, ‘dismay’ not the word he usually had running through his mind when he thought of his hand and her…

Suck it up, he told himself. Just say it. “I think my hand is too big to release the restraint without, um, touching you.”

He watched the sudden flush in her cheeks as she realized what he meant. He waited until she nodded to reach down again, thinking he had never been quite so nervous before. He noticed her quick intake of breath as his fingers came in contact with her inner thigh. And since all he could think about was how important it was right now to be calm, cool and collected, the first thing he managed to do was, yep, there you go, fumble.

His hand brushed against the crotch of her jeans as his fingers slipped. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking up as she gasped. Her eyes were closed and her head was back – exactly as he had imagined she would look when she came. So she ‘got’ the bondage thing, huh? Thank God she was wearing jeans of the heavy denim variety because he could feel how damp they were underneath his hand and if she had been wearing anything less intimidating he would probably be tearing it off her right now.

Focus, he said to himself, trying to just concentrate on the metal release and not her shallow breathing or the way her muscles quivered whenever he touched her.

Finally, he thought as the first leg brace released. “I swear,” he said, a bit out of breath himself as he went to work on the second, “this part usually goes a lot smoother.”

“The rescuing-girls-from-metal-chair part or the hand job part?” she asked, thankful as the second brace was released, saving her the embarrassment of the full blown orgasm she could see coming in the not too distant future thanks to his hands and her rather active imagination. Forgetting Angel was definitely not going to be easy, but this sort of thing could make it a lot more pleasant.

She noticed that Riley didn’t answer but instead gave her a quick grin as he turned his attention to the back of the chair again. She decided this was a good opportunity to get her breathing under control and tried to think about finals and papers and all sorts of things that had nothing to do with where she was, who she was with, and what he was doing at this very moment. Not that she actually knew what he was doing right now because he was back behind the chair again, knocking against the metal.

“Riley?” she asked, trying to get a view of him, but still being held in place, mostly by the very strong, very tight piece of leather that was strapped across her chest.

A piece of leather that Riley was trying hard not to think about, or, to be more specific, he was trying not to think of where it was strapped. He finally found what he was looking for – a panel with the controls for adjusting the chair and the straps. He’d never actually used the chair – that was the scientists’ job – but the few times he’d seen it, they’d been able to loosen the straps using buttons set into the back of the chair.

“Just another minute,” he said, as he played with the panel. Willing it to open. Banging his fist against it as it refused to budge. “Ouch,” he muttered.

“Riley?” Buffy asked again, partly wanting to give just one good push against the straps and be free, the other part wanting to stay strapped in and let him have his way with her.

She felt the blood rush to her face. Did she just think that? Submission and Buffy were not words that belonged in the same sentence. And yet there was this teensy little part of her…

“Mmmmm?” he responded.

Of course, there was reality to think about. “No pressure or anything, but the guys who put me here? They might be back soon. Maybe you could check the door again?” Then she could get out of this chair and get hold of herself again.

Right, thought Riley. Anyone in his right mind would have asked her how she got here by now. And would have been more than a little worried about the armed men that had put her here. Riley came back around to in front of her, looking for the emergency release that he vaguely remembered seeing at some point. There was nothing obvious that he could see.

“Guys? The kinky sex guys?” he asked, wondering why she hadn’t said anything about the demons or guns; and being more than a little grateful that he hadn’t had to come up with an explanation for anything. Yet.

Oops. She had forgotten about that whole part of the conversation. “Nothing to do with kinky sex,” she said. “You didn’t happen to run into anyone on your way here, did you?” As he shook his head the question occurred to her, “Hey – how did you get here? Do you normally hang out underground?”

He met her eyes with a shrewd look. “I was kind of wondering the same thing about you.”

They stared at each other for a moment and then both looked away at the same time, muttering, “Stupid frat prank.”

Both their heads jerked up.

“Frat prank?” he asked. It didn’t sound any more convincing coming from her than it would have from him. He knew what he was hiding, but what was her story?

“You have a better explanation?” she said practically challenging him. He seemed rattled but not scared now that she thought about it. Shouldn’t he be scared? Wasn’t that how normal people reacted when they saw someone tied up in some dungeon-like room? There was no way he could know who she really was – could he? “Riley,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “I need to get out of this thing.”

He nodded. She was definitely hiding something, but why should that matter? He needed to get her out of the chair regardless. Forrest wasn’t coming back with help any time soon. Besides, he had his own secrets; why should he blame Buffy for having them, too? For a split second he thought about coming clean, but that would create too many complications. Deal with the straps first, he thought. The rest will come soon enough.

She watched as his eyes left her face. His glance moved slowly across the length of the strap and she thought she probably shouldn’t be quite so turned on by his eyes sweeping slowly across her chest. Especially not when there was something he was clearly not telling her.

He ran his hand along the inside of the strap, trying to recall where the release had been the one time he had seen it used. He started where the strap met the back of the chair. That had seemed the logical place, but it wasn’t there. He remembered saying to Walsh that it seemed to be in the worst possible place for an emergency release. Her response was that it was harder for the demon to manipulate it when it was…

Right. Of course he remembered where it was. His brain had clearly blacked it out though, trying to protect him from saying, Excuse me, Buffy, I just need to manhandle your chest for a minute here. Her voice startled him.

“What?” she asked. “Can you release the straps?”

He nodded.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“It’s… I think it’s right in the middle,” he said, his face turning bright red yet again.

Well at least he’s not a vampire, she thought. They don’t blush like that.

“Oh,” she replied, considering what his words meant. She finally said, “You know, the way to second base is usually via first, not third.”

“Really,” he said, pulling his hand away and taking a step back.

She nodded slowly. Holding her breath as she watched him decide what to do.

This was one weird girl. 'Peculiar' didn’t begin to describe her.

Under no circumstances could he ever have pictured this scenario. Her taking this all in stride was probably a warning that there was far more going on in her head than he had ever dreamed. He should probably be running for the hills without ever looking back. Probably.

He stepped back toward her and leaned in, touching his mouth to hers, tasting a hint of peppermint as he traced his tongue over her lips. He pulled back and looked at her, wanting to be sure that that was what she had meant.

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “Much better.”

His grin matched hers. “Not quite how I imagined our first kiss would be.”

“You imagined our first kiss?” Her smile broadened. “How about our second?”

Definitely not how he’d imagined this happening, he thought, as he leaned in again, meeting her open mouth with his, feeling a shock run through him as they connected. His right hand grabbed onto her waist to steady himself as his left hand ran over her shoulder and then down the length of her bare arm, past the strap, until he was holding her hand.

She grasped at his hand, straining against the bonds at her wrists and her chest. The kiss wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel more of him. She wanted to feel his body against her – legs and chests and everything in between. Especially the in between. Hot damn, this forgetting thing might actually be fun.

He pulled away reluctantly. “So, um, straps. Ready?” At her nod, he ran his hand along the strap, working his fingers in where the leather met her skin, the only place there was any give. He stopped when he heard her sudden breath. “Does that hurt?”

“Unh-uh,” she forced out, trying to breathe steadily as he resumed inching his way across the top of her breast, coming to a stop right before he reached the middle.

He tried to focus on the leather strap and not the smooth, soft skin on her chest, for once wishing that she wasn’t wearing such a low cut top. “There’s a catch here. I need to just…” he laughed self-consciously. “It might be a little uncomfortable.”

“I can manage,” she said, smiling.

It should be easy – it was an emergency release after all. Walsh had done it with a quick turn of her wrist. He flicked his wrist.

O.k. It was like one of those Chinese finger toys that tightened when you pulled, loosened when you pushed in. It didn’t release, but there was enough slack for him to get more of a grip on the strap.

He tried to stay detached from the fact that his hand was now between her breasts. He could feel her heart racing and her chest rising and falling as she took deep, measured breaths. His hand tightened on the leather and he felt it go slack.

As soon as the strap at her chest let go, the straps at her wrists and ankles released as well. The head strap had never been an issue since she wasn’t tall enough. She pulled her hands and feet out and sat forward in the chair, rubbing her wrists.

Riley took a step back. He ran his hand through his hair as he said, “So, good. Guess it worked.”

“Yeah,” she said, “guess it did.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

He unzipped his sweatshirt and took it off, handing it to her. “You’re cold.”

She took it from him. “Thanks,” she said, stealing a glance at his shoulders and the muscles in his arms. He should really wear t-shirts more often, she thought.

“So, uh, how was your break?” he asked, trying to tell himself that he didn’t just see that look. Trying to change the subject to something that had no sexual connotations whatsoever. And trying to put off the “what are you doing here” conversation as long as humanly possible.

“Could’ve been better,” she said. An evil smile came over her face as she beckoned him to her. “Wanna make it better?”

Hell, yeah, he thought, not able to hide his grin. In one step he had her face in his hands and was kissing her again. He felt her arms slip around him and run her hands up his back, under his t-shirt, her cool fingers sending shivers down his spine.

Lots of muscles. Good, strong, ripply muscles. And arms that had enveloped her completely and were now holding her in a warm, strong embrace as his hands were doing nice things in her hair and on her waist. She scooted forward to the edge of the seat, moving her hands around to his chest and then down to just inside the waist of his pants. She fumbled with the buttons – damn button-fly jeans – stopping at the second as his hand grabbed her wrist.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hating himself, his father, and anyone else who had ever uttered the word 'gentleman.' “We could just work on kisses three and four.”

She looked into his eyes, nodding as she unbuttoned the third and fourth buttons and pressed her fingers against him. He let go of her wrist and pulled her to him, resting his chin on the top of her head. She spread her hands and let her fingers play as she eased his jeans off his hips, concentrating on what she saw outlined there. She hadn’t paid that much attention the first two times around, focusing instead on what was being done to her; this time was going to be different.

She eased his boxers down, ran her fingers from the tip downwards, smiling as his hips jerked towards her. She slipped off the seat and knelt, wrapping her hands around him, stroking and squeezing. Flickering her tongue against him, nibbling and licking, up and down slowly before taking him into her mouth. She savored the taste of him – salty and sweaty and sweet – pulling him in with her tongue until her mouth was full.

“Buffy,” he gasped, pulling out and kneeling down in front of her. “Not like that,” he said, running his hand down her cheek. “I want to see you.”

With a sparkle in her eye, she pulled her top over her head, then reached behind to unclasp her bra. She stood up, shrugging it off her shoulders as she stripped off her boots and jeans and panties.

“O.k. Not what I meant,” he said, “but no complaints.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was flawless; he had never seen anything more beautiful. Hadn’t even dreamed it.

“Your turn,” she said, smiling as he took off his shirt. She stared at him as each item of clothing came off. Shoes, socks, jeans, boxers. Clearly, she had underestimated him. His body was smooth and chiseled. Sleek and lean in all the right places. And so tall – they were practically face-to-face even though she was still standing and he was back to kneeling.

He pulled her back to him. He caressed her gently, teasing her with his palm as he brushed it back and forth across her chest. His tongue found her breast, and he played there a little before tugging at her nipple gently with his teeth.

She groaned. This was definitely something she could get used to, she thought, as his tongue moved up to the hollow of her throat. She tensed when his mouth approached the scar, trembled as his tongue skirted around it.

“Nasty scar,” he said, pulling away from her. “Never seen one like it.” The only bites he'd ever seen were fresh.

“Umm, yeah. Long story,” she said. She put her arms around his neck and bent down to kiss him, pressing her body against him, stopping only when she knew he was lost in her again. “Riley – we don’t have much time.” Another kiss. “Those guys are going to send somebody for me soon.”

He was kind of hoping she had forgotten about that. Amazing how a couple of weeks ago she had been just another student in Walsh’s class. And now he was about to lose her before he had even had a chance. Then again, maybe this demon-fighting, vampire-bitten, blaster-resistant girl would surprise him.

He leaned in to give her one last, tender kiss, memorizing the taste and feel of her before saying, “What if I told you they already did?”

She froze as the meaning of his words hit her. “You’re…” She touched her hand to his cheek, a sad look in her eyes as she said, “You’re one of them? Forrest, too?”

He nodded. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t know.” It should. It probably did. “You know about me?”

“Enough,” he answered, encouraged that her hand was now running through his hair.

“What do they do here?” she asked.

He shook his head. He had already told her too much. “They won’t touch you. I promise,” he said, grabbing her hand. “Trust me?”

“Are we really stuck in here?” she asked.

He nodded.

“You didn’t get one of those key card thingies?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. But it’s sitting on my desk. I was a little distracted.”

“When will they come back?”

“Knowing Forrest? We could be here a while.”

She brought his hand up to her lips and kissed it before placing it on her waist. She took a step forward so that their bodies were touching and put her hands on his shoulders. “I trust you,” she said. And she did – she had no idea why, but she did.

This was really happening. He couldn’t believe this was really happening. He let her take the lead. She pushed him back to the floor, her eyes never leaving his. She swung her leg over his and straddled him, sinking down until she could feel him against her. Watching his reaction as she guided him inside.

Now that was exactly as he had imagined. Warm and wet and strong. God, was she strong. And tight. So tight that he seemed to have hit a wall. Or maybe she was doing that deliberately – letting him in just enough to be barely inside her. Moving her hips back and forth and creating this incredible friction that was driving him crazy.

She liked watching him. Watching his face as waves of pleasure washed over him – because of things she did. She wanted him inside her – all of him. “Can it go any further? This didn’t seem quite so hard…” Bad choice of words. “This seems easier when guys do it.”

So stamina maybe, and enthusiasm certainly, but not too much experience. Surely Parker wasn’t her only time? “Yeah,” he said, breathing heavily. “It can go further.” He ran his hands down her waist to her hips, grasping her and pulling her down.

She threw back her head and arched her back as she cried out. Oh, God, yes. That’s what it’s supposed to feel like. She grabbed onto his hands, not letting go as they left her hips and roamed up past her waist, caressing and squeezing and grazing her skin with the tips of his fingers. Sending her into spasms as his thumb brushed her nipple.

She was riding him now, moving in time with him as he thrust upwards. He was lifting his hips, ramming into her as she moaned. She leaned forward, her breasts sliding against his chest, now slick with sweat. Their lips met and his hands were on her waist again, pulling her up and pushing her down. Quick little breaths were escaping her throat and her kisses became more urgent.

His hand came off her waist and wandered down between their bodies, finding a tangle of curls. She buried her head in his chest, jerking against him every time he hit that one spot. Trying to keep pace with his thrusts but getting lost in the sensation of his hand against her. Groaning, she grabbed at his hand and pulled it away.

“Too much,” she gasped. “Too good.” She didn’t want to be on top any more. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms and enclosed by him. She wanted him to take care of her. She wanted to trust him to protect her from demons and vampires and soldiers with guns. She wanted him to make her safe. It was suddenly about so much more than sex.

“Hey,” he said as she became still. Her eyes were wide and she was gazing at him intensely. “What just happened? Are you o.k.?”

She pulled him up by the shoulders and kissed his neck. “Make love to me?” she whispered.

His arms went around her and he held her tightly, kissing her deeply as he laid her down beneath him. She closed her eyes and opened herself to him as he gently placed his hand on her knee and moved between her legs. She lifted her hips to meet his and sighed as he eased into her. Pumping slowly as he kissed her; more quickly as her hips moved under him.

“Faster,” she urged and he obliged. Her hands at the back of his neck and fingers in his hair, she relished the richness of him – warm and deep inside her, filling her completely. At that moment she wanted nothing else. Nothing other than him.

He could feel her hands tighten in his hair. She arched her back and raised her hips leaving no space between them. Her cries were becoming louder as each thrust went deeper. But it was the way she was clutching him that was sending him over the edge.

He closed his eyes tightly as the pressure built deep within him. Her hands were on his ass, pulling him in until there was nowhere left to go. Shock waves ran through him as she came beneath him, squirming and shuddering and crying and laughing all at once. He exploded inside her, trembling as he fell against her.

Neither of them spoke as he rolled off her and they lay there catching their breaths, sticky and slick with semen and sweat. He reached out for his sweatshirt and covered her with it as she snuggled against him.

“Can we fall asleep like this and wake up in the morning and do that all over again?” she asked, her voice muffled by his chest.

God, yes. “Whatever you want,” he said, smiling at the way her lips felt against him. Christ, at the way her naked body felt against him.

Her head popped up. “You won’t get into trouble?”

He shrugged. “I’m pretty sure it’ll be o.k.” It had damn well better be if Forrest knew what was good for him. It gave Riley no end of pleasure to picture Forrest having to keep a straight face as he explained to Walsh that the subject had been debriefed and examined for injuries.

“We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” Buffy asked. The sad smile was back.

“Yeah,” he said, “we really do.”

“There’s no way this can work,” she said, shaking her head.

“Trust me.” He pulled her down for a kiss, grinning as she sighed. “We’ll make it work.”

“How?” She was ready to believe anything he said.

We can start with a picnic, he thought, smiling to himself. “Willow told me you like cheese – how do you feel about turkey?”

THE END

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Posted September 29, 2002.