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The best thing about having sex with Anya is that she tells him exactly what she likes.
“Mmm, yes, keep doing that,” she sighs, one leg draped over Xander’s shoulder as he fucks her with his tongue. She’s pressed up against the basement door and he is grateful for the creaking of the radiator and the hum of the television upstairs. Anya likes to be noisy.
“Human tongues are so wonderful,” she continues. “Not the stretchiest or the slimiest, but – oh – so versatile.”
He steals a quick glance up at her. Anya’s eyes are half-shut, and the hand that isn’t currently tangled in his hair is playing with one of her breasts, kneading and squeezing. Xander’s hand is halfway to his jeans before he realizes he actually doesn’t want to come in his pants right now. He grabs her hip, rubbing his thumb back and forth across her hip bone.
“And yours is the best tongue, of course,” she adds.
He doesn’t know what makes his tongue the best. He wants to know, so he can make sure it stays in first place in Anya’s ranking of all the tongues in existence. He would ask her, but his mouth is pretty busy at the moment. He drags his tongue up the side of Anya’s clit, and she moans. These days, it’s his favorite sound.
***
She also tells him when he gets it wrong.
“No, stop. You’re doing it incorrectly,” Anya chides, pulling Xander’s hand away from her breast. “You’re pinching too hard. It’s distracting.”
“It’s supposed to be distracting,” Xander retorts.
“It’s supposed to be arousing,” she corrects. “And it’s not. It hurts. How would you like it if I . . .” She reaches out and tweaks his nipple, hard. Xander yelps and jerks back.
“Point taken,” he says, shielding his poor nipple.
“You have to do it like this. Softly. Watch me.”
She runs her hand over her breast, caressing lightly, then takes her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She rubs gently, twisting and pinching with a lighter touch than Xander had used. He watches, mesmerized, open-mouthed, and probably drooling.
“Why don’t you try again,” Anya says. She catches his eye, and she’s smiling a little.
She likes it when I can’t take my eyes off her, Xander realizes.
Ever since they started being intimate, he finds himself staring at her more and more often. And not just when she’s naked. They’ll be walking across the UC Sunnydale courtyard as Anya animatedly tells him about an unfaithful boyfriend she has particularly fond memories of torturing, and the sun will hit her hair just right, and he’ll miss a few details regarding the pros and cons of various kinds of thumbscrews. Or they’ll be watching TV on the couch together with Anya’s legs strewn across his lap, and she’ll make some strange yet insightful comment on the nature of infomercials, and Xander will glance over at her and watch her absorb and assess the images on the flickering screen and marvel at the way her mind works.
He wonders now if she noticed all those times he got distracted by looking at her when he was supposed to be doing something else. He’d thought he was playing it so cool. But Anya is a thousand-year-old demon, and she can see right through him.
He cups her boob, enjoying the weight of it in his hand. He touches her the way she showed him and looks at her face, hoping for signs of encouragement. Anya’s eyelids flutter and she arches into his hand. She meets his eyes and nods.
“That’s good,” she says. “Very, very good. You learn fast.”
“I aim to please,” he says.
***
The other best thing about having sex with Anya is that she likes him.
Faith had fucked him, but she hadn’t liked him. She’d used his body like she had something to prove. Xander thought sex would bring them closer together, but it seemed almost the opposite. Faith seemed distant, remote, even while he was inside her. She appeared to be enjoying herself, but it was like he was merely incidental to her good time. By the end, he’d felt used up and disposable, like a napkin at a fast-food restaurant.
It’s not like that with Anya at all. Anya’s always present, attentive, in a way that feels electric. She likes his body. She likes his body in ways that women usually aren’t supposed to like men’s bodies, or so Xander has gathered. She admires how he moves and flexes and jiggles, his hardness and softness, his smooth parts and hairy parts. She gazes at him like he’s an intricately carved statue, or a majestic oak tree, or a delicately painted sunset. She even likes his ears. Xander never liked his ears; he always thought they were too big and stuck out too much. But Anya likes his ears, and now when Xander looks in the mirror he likes them a little more too.
But it’s more than just his body. Anya likes him. His stupid wisecracks and his desperation to be liked and his comprehensive knowledge of the geekiest franchises known to mankind. Everything he’s insecure about. Anya notices it all and she still thinks he’s a guy worth hanging around. He’ll say or do something ridiculous, on accident or on purpose, and she’ll crack a smile, and it’s like he’s won the lottery. Like he can hear the angels singing down from the heavens. But there aren’t any angels around. Just her.
“An,” he says one afternoon when they’re lying in his bed post-coitus, drowsy and warm.
“Hmm?” She blinks sleepily, her pretty blonde hair adorably tousled.
“Why me?”
Anya frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I mean . . . you’re a total babe. You could be with any guy you wanted. So why me? What makes me so special?”
“There’s nothing special about you,” she says matter-of-factly. “It just so happens that I like you.”
“But . . . why?”
“Why does anybody like anything? Why does Buffy like crossbows and Willow like books and Giles also like books? I don’t know. I just do.” She snuggles close to him, and he automatically kisses the top of her head. It’s like an involuntary response by now, as natural as taking a breath.
Xander turns over her words in his head. “But don’t you ever feel like you could be going out with somebody better? Like a guy with an actual job? Or his own apartment?”
Anya pulls away and scrutinizes him. “Xander, are you trying to make me break up with you?”
“Definitely not,” he says hastily. He rubs her shoulder, and she settles back in. “Just wanna understand how your beautiful mind works, is all.”
“Oh. Well, an apartment would be more convenient, but this basement is acceptable. It brings back good memories. Like the time we had sex there, and there, and there . . .” She points to various spots around them.
“That last one was twenty minutes ago.”
“Still a good memory. And I enjoy your strange and ever-shifting occupations. I always get to learn something new.”
“That’s a nice way of looking at it.” He interlocks their fingers together, presses a kiss to the back of her hand. “You really don’t find yourself wishing for more than pathetic little ol’ me?”
“No, I really don’t,” she says. “I like you. We have fun spending time together and you make me feel good about myself. What else is there?”
She looks at him, her gorgeous eyes full of impatience and affection, and Xander suddenly feels foolish.
“Nothing, I guess,” he concedes.
“There you go.” She kisses him. “And you’re not pathetic. Don’t say things like that about the man I—”
She cuts herself off abruptly and scowls. “Oh, darn. Am I allowed to say that I love you yet?”
Xander flushes. No girl has ever told him she loved him before. Not in that way. “I think it’s probably okay,” he decides.
“Well, good.” She kisses him again, longer this time, nibbling on his lower lip. “I don’t like when I have to not say things that are true.”
“I’ve noticed,” Xander says dryly. He rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “And for what it’s worth, I love you too.”
Anya beams. “I suspected as much. But it’s nice to hear you say it.”
She nudges him with her shoulder. “Now go order us some takeout. I’m starving.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gets up and pulls on his boxers and jeans.
Halfway across the room, Xander pauses and turns, feeling like there’s something more he ought to say and not knowing exactly what it is. “Anya . . .”
She waves her hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, you’re very welcome for the many orgasms I’ve given you in the past and the many, many, many orgasms I will give you in the future. Now go! Cheap, greasy sustenance awaits us!”
Xander smiles. He can’t help it. “Will do.”