So, I had a very productive night writing, and I'm wayyy ahead of the game, so I can afford to be kind today *smile*

For Dementedx, because it's her birthday. Also for Greys has become my life, because I love her, and because I may be a tease, but I still know how to deliver, I hope...

Which reminds me: Please skip this chapter if you're offended by, or too young to read, graphic adult content. The story will still make sense. I think.

13

An hour later, after all the kids had left, Will and I sat side by side on the piano bench, closer together than was strictly proper, his body leaning into mine while I held myself rigid. I was doing my best not to feel exhilarated by our proximity, reminding myself that I'd be saying goodbye for good- and for the best- in just a few minutes, that everything that was ever meant to happen between us had happened already. Of course, that didn't explain why I was lingering with him like this, but I didn't want to examine it too closely and as you know I'm very, very good at that.

My fingers trailed idly over the piano keys, and somehow "idly" became "with intent", and then I was playing a bit of the new song I'd been working on earlier. It was still rough, still raw, but I really thought it might turn into something useful when I got home…

"That's really nice," Will said, stilling my hands by placing one of his on one of mine. "What is it? I didn't know you played."

Startled by the pleasant warmth that single soft touch created in me, I pulled away from him immediately, folding both my hands in my lap, and he looked a little confused by my movements. "It's nothing, really, just something I made up," I answered, which was true.

"Oh. Well, it was nice. I could play you something if you want," he offered, "Or we could play something together if there's anything you know."

"Really, I don't know anything," I insisted. "I haven't had lessons since I was seven." This was also true; my mother had fired my piano teacher because all of that musical nonsense was distracting me from real life, or church or something, but it didn't stop me from learning because I couldn't help myself. I tried but really I couldn't.

He gave me a sidelong glance, smiled softly. "Okay, I'll play this, then…" And he began to play Summerview as though he knew just what it would do to me. Considering that we'd discussed it, maybe he did. I felt a new tension in the air, one I easily recognized, and I reminded myself of the plan. Of saying goodbye, of meaning it.

I stood abruptly.

"Thanks so much for inviting me, Will; I had an awesome time, the kids were amazing. I think I'm going to go. It was nice to meet you, nice to see you again." I tried to keep my tone casual, friendly, but really I think the best I could do was distant, which made sense considering I was trying to put as much distance between us as possible. He looked up at me, finished playing the chorus, humming along, and of course my mind supplied the words: And the roads I've known will never lead me home to you/Without you, there's nowhere to go home to.

God I wished I'd never written that song.

Then he stood, closing the piano and slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. "I'll walk you; the school's empty by now and all the doors will be locked, you'll need my key to get out."

"Thanks," I murmured, falling into step behind him, grateful that he was keeping a bit of distance.

"I think the kids really liked you," he said as he led me down the hall. He knew his way unerringly, of course, and I followed him through the bewildering corridors. "They don't always warm up to people right away."

I thought of the coolly observant stare Kurt had subjected me to throughout my visit but didn't say anything. "I thought they were great," I answered sincerely, more comfortable now that we were in a position less likely to lead to me doing something I'd regret. "Not just their performance, but the kids themselves. They all really look up to you, you know?"

"I don't know about that." He chuckled self-deprecatingly. "You've never seen Rachel storm out of practice after accusing me of trying to ruin her career. She does it at least once a week."

I grinned at the image, finding it easy to imagine. "And are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Trying to ruin her career?" I teased.

"No, just trying to teach her that the whole world doesn't revolve around her and her talent," he answered wryly. "I'm not crazy, I know she's amazing, I know she'll be a sensation someday. And then maybe the world will revolve around her. But not now. She needs to just be a kid, you know?"

And of course I drew no parallels between this and my own adolescence at all.

"But honestly, Will," I said, my voice completely serious. "You do something special for these kids, you give them something and… That's important. It is."

He looked at me, smiled slightly. "Thanks."

I looked away, embarrassed by my words and angry with myself for saying them, for thinking them.

We arrived in front of an office, and Will took out his keys, unlocking the door. "Sorry, this will only take a second," he said. "I forgot a folder of papers to grade."

"It's no problem," I responded with a shrug, though in reality I felt like clawing my way out of my skin to get away from him. The office was quite small, walled in glass, and I felt trapped in there with him so close. I perched on his desk to achieve some distance, physical and mental, as he flipped through some files in his cabinet. Apparently finding what he'd been searching for, he withdrew a folder and tucked it into his messenger bag.

"All done," he announced, reaching for my hands because… I'm not sure why. To help me balance as I climbed down from the desk? I don't know, I just know that he reached out to me and I grasped his hands in return, and his palms were so strong and smooth and warm, and then the one thing I'd been trying so hard to avoid happened and he was setting his mouth softly to mine.

I'm not going to pretend I didn't have a choice. His lips were barely touching mine, his hands exerting no pressure where he held me, and there was a respectable foot of distance between our bodies, at least. Undoubtedly I could have ended the kiss anytime I wanted to, and he would have walked me out and said goodbye like the gentleman he was. But the whisper of his mouth on mine felt so unbelievably good, and a familiar refrain began in my head. This is a bad, bad idea. But I want him. Very, very dangerous. But I want him. If you have a heart he might be capable of breaking it. But I want him. And, being unused to denying myself anything I wanted, I pulled him closer.

He came forward with no resistance, pressing his body against mine as I cradled him between my legs. I released his hands, curling my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his hair, and he responded by cupping my face, stroking my cheeks. My lips parted slightly and his tongue slipped between them, tasting me, and I met it with my own, tasting him back. It was soft and gentle and not at all frantic, and I knew that made it perilous to me but couldn't bring myself to care.

Carefully, he reached up and removed my hat, and my hair tumbled around my shoulders for him to run his fingers through. They trailed down to my neck, teasing the thin skin of my throat and collarbone, and then his mouth followed, abandoning mine to lightly kiss my pulse and clavicle. All of these touches were feather-light, almost non-existent, but I felt them throughout my entire body, warmth pooling between my legs. He stroked my breasts gently through my sweater before moving his hands to my knees.

I made a surprised sound, one that wasn't a protest really but I suppose he may have interpreted it as one, and he returned his lips to mine, silencing me. There was a bit more pressure now, his kiss a bit more forceful, but overall the entire encounter remained languorous, as though the outside world didn't exist at all and even if it did we had all the time in it. While he kissed me, he moved one hand to my waist, steadying me, and slid the other under my skirt, caressing my inner thigh with the same maddening feather-light strokes he'd been using on my neck and shoulders, teasing me by brushing his fingers against the front of my panties but going no further.

Moaning, I shifted slightly against him and could feel his lips form a smile. He caressed me gently through the thin silk and I raised my hips, trying to prolong the contact; he rewarded me by applying just enough pressure to send a shiver of pleasure through me. Then he used his fingers to nudge the fabric aside, and I inhaled sharply as he teased my slick flesh, gently parting my folds and exploring me by touch. It was bewildering, the intensity of feeling his delicate strokes awoke in me, the sensations just as strong, or stronger, as if he'd been touching me hard, rubbing frantically. When he carefully slid one finger inside me, I cried out against his mouth in something closely approaching ecstasy, wondering how on earth he was doing it, what tricks he was using to take me apart.

He added another finger and slid them both deep, his movements slow and deliberate, pushing forward and stretching me tenderly. I gasped as he began twisting his fingers, searching inside for something, gasped again when he found it, and could feel my body tensing around him as he teased me. Breaking our kiss, he lifted his head, his eyes very dark and green as he watched my face, his expression very serious.

"Will you come for me like this?" he murmured, his voice husky. "It's all I could think of during rehearsal, sinking my fingers into your wet cunt, watching your face while you came."

"God, Will," I breathed, almost unbearably aroused by everything he was doing, everything he was saying, and his voice, the smooth measured way he was saying it. "Do you teach your kids with that mouth? Oh, god."

His lips quirked with amusement. "I'll teach you," he whispered, moving his hand just enough that his thumb brushed against my clit. The world came to a screaming halt as the effects of all the gentle touches he'd subjected me to converged in that one gesture, and then I was screaming too, almost silently, shuddering against him and around him, unable to look away from the intensity of his eyes as he watched me. I felt weightless and adored and utterly exposed as the pleasure of what he was doing to me coursed through my veins, and the expression on his face while he looked at me was both tender and triumphant.

He kissed me as I came down, as deeply as I wanted him to, and I unzipped his pants because he was too busy tangling his hands in my hair, holding me firmly against his mouth. I freed his cock, for which I can only imagine he was very grateful, considering how constricting his slacks had become, and stroked the hard, hot flesh as he moaned and gasped against my lips. It was his turn to be incoherent, and really it was only fair. Lifting my hips, wrapping my legs around him, I guided him closer, and he pushed into me in one forceful thrust. The feel of him inside as he began to move was almost uncomfortable because I was still so sensitive, but it was worth it for the desperate way he kissed me and clutched at me and pounded into me. After a few short minutes he made a choked, strangled kind of sound against my lips, and I could feel the warmth of his release deep at my core.

Removing his mouth from mine, he buried his head in the crook of my neck, panting and gasping for breath. I should have been thinking about what a horrible mistake I had just made, about how stupid I was and how this hadn't been the plan at all, but I wasn't. The most I could do was stroke his damp hair and rub his neck and shoulders, and he planted soft, open-mouthed kisses on my throat. As his breathing finally slowed, he laughed a little, raising his head to look at me, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

"What?" I asked, wondering what the joke was.

"I will never be able to walk into this office again without getting hard," he said, shaking his head ruefully.

I couldn't help it. I laughed and leaned forward and kissed him and wondered what the hell I was thinking and then shook my head. "That is your own damn fault, I had nothing to do with it."

"Oh, I think you did," he countered. "But for now why don't we get out of here? We could grab some takeout, head back to your place…"

"That sounds perfect," I answered, because he was still so flushed and handsome and I was still so high on the afterglow and anyway my brilliant plan was already shot to hell so why not?

TBC

P.S. Longest chapter to date!