girl smut

The New Men

2007-05-12T23:58:00.000-07:00

Title: The New Men (or, A Present from Ethan)

Pairing: Giles/Wesley/Xander

Rating/Warnings: NC-17, a kind of drug use

Summary/Notes: 4th season Btvs, what would have happened if Wesley had been along on the demon hunting trip in A New Man instead of Willow? And if Ethan had felt less like turning Giles into a monster and more… mischievous? Written for and in particular who requested Giles/Wes/ (with the third as either Xander or Ethan) and books. Sorry Mir, Ethan popped in, but then kind of ran away after he'd set his plan in motion. Silly man.

Disclaimer: Joss is fairly fabulous, and you can tell I'm not exactly him, I just like to play with his boys from time to time.

Feedback: Welcomed and appreciated. Concrit is valued as well, although preferred in an email.

Thanks: To Elizabuffy and Lostgirlslair! You both rock my world beyond the telling of it! All corrections are theirs, all remaining mistakes are mine.

.: Wesley :.

Giles' call came as quite a surprise. Wesley had left his Los Angeles number with the other watcher, just in case, but he had never, ever expected to be called as backup. Evidently Buffy was no where to be found, and there was a demon rising. Wes couldn't stop the little warm glow in his chest when he thought about the call – he'd proved himself, at least to someone. Or proved that he could be counted on in an emergency, at the least.

But the entire drive up he'd thought about his time in Sunnydale. It wasn't that long ago, and yet… there were worlds in-between the man he was now and the man he'd been then. The thought of long hours researching in that atrocious high school library made him sigh a little bit with nostalgia – Angel and Cordelia were lovely people, but it was never truly interesting to be the only one searching for something, and he still didn't trust Cordelia's insistence that they could find everything via Google. The sum of human knowledge was not on the internet. Human stupidity, perhaps. But Rupert Giles was a man who knew the value of a good book.

The road stretched in front of him, and his eyes tracked the lines and cars around him mechanically, while a memory of Giles' hands played across his inner eye – the way his long fingers would stroke over book covers, each page was turned, with the right book, with a delicate grace. He had spent long hours in that library watching Giles with his books. He never worried that Mr. Giles (at least that's what he'd called him, even in his head, back then) would notice his obsession, the man was always too absorbed in what he was doing. Wesley felt safe watching, quietly wishing that the man beside him would show interest like that in him. He spun fantasies about those hands, and then shook them off to engage in heated debates with Giles (and sometimes the others – Xander and Willow and Oz, and more rarely Buffy) about the Mayor, the Council, this or that translation. Even though he'd been at odds with them so often, their camaraderie had been stimulating, and he'd thought nothing of his quiet fantasies. He'd always had them about someone, after all. It had been his way of escape, through years of lessons and college classes where he was too determined to study to properly fit in. It was locked up in his head, nothing he would act on, just the quiet contemplation that never went anywhere. Harmless, really.

He'd felt safe in that, at least. Until he'd turned his eyes up after one long afternoon, and been caught by someone else's look. Giles was saying something to Willow about a panel he'd managed to find, unconsciously smoothing the page he was discussing under his fingertips with deft strokes. Wesley was daydreaming about how that soft touch would feel along his shoulder blades, when Giles gestured towards another book, further down the table, and Wesley's eyes had followed his hand to find Xander, across the table, doing the exact same thing. At least until Xander turned right back and looked Wesley straight in the eye. There was a moment of recognition, when the knowledge that they were both doing the same thing, watching the same man, thinking about those same hands, reflected in Xander's eyes. Wes had almost gasped, but had the good sense at the time to merely raise his eyebrows as if there was nothing wrong. Xander had grinned, though, a feral grin that seemed out of character, and shifted his gaze back to Giles' hands on the books between them.

At the time Wesley had felt he'd been revealed somehow. He assumed Xander would say something, would do something, to call attention to Wesley's obsession, embarrass him. But the young man had been uncharacteristically silent – at least about that look.

And that had been that. The Mayor was vanquished, the town made safe from apocalypse again, Wesley sacked from his job, and Los Angeles on the horizon.

Now he was going back, and Wesley wondered why his unconscious had called up those particular daydreams, and that moment of recognition. He wondered what Xander was doing these days.

***

.: Xander :.

That didn't work out exactly how it was supposed to, Xander thought. He'd started out the night wondering if he should be sad about Anya. Tonight had been their final fight. After the Gentlemen had come, and he'd punched Spike out, thinking he had saved her, he thought she'd be ok with him not being in love with her. Apparently the idea that love might develop but hadn't yet wasn't what she was looking for. Not that he could really blame her. It's just that he wasn't sure – and he wanted to be sure. After everything with Cordy and Willow, after Faith, he just didn't know if he was built for love. Lust, sure. Like, oh, he could do like. But love? Buffy-and-Angel-soul-mates-love? He wasn't even sure that he wanted that. And even though Anya staggered him every time he saw her, even though when she walked into the room he had this little shiver where he went, "that girl is mine? That girl is mine!", he was pretty sure his mental happy wasn't the kind of thing she was looking for.

She'd left the basement looking sad, and he'd wanted to hug her. But she'd cut him off, saying that she couldn't do that with him right now, that it was too misleading. And he felt like a jerk, because even though he was sad, he wasn't sad-sad, and he knew it. Which is why the whole conversation had worked out the way it had.

But Giles had called, and he thanked telephone operators every where for getting him out of his basement before Spike came back and wanted to save the world. Not that it wasn't what he and Giles… and apparently Wesley… were going to do, but something about the vampires' new perky attitude had really creeped him out, and he'd rater be saving the world with the human people that weren't quite so bouncy, even if they were British.

He'd found Giles and Wes standing around kind of awkwardly at Giles' house, and they'd headed out to the crypt only to find it swept clean. That's when Xander had made the mistake of mentioning the Initiative, only to find out that Giles didn't know anything about it. Xander felt so bad when he saw the guy's shoulders slump. He knew that things between Giles and Buffy weren't quite the "I see you every day and tell you all" kind of stage, but there was nothing he could really say to make Giles feel better. He was sure the Buffster was just a little preoccupied with Riley to remember to call. After all, it wasn't like they had their free study period at Giles' house or anything and could update him on every night's slayage. Heck, Xander hadn't even been out on patrol with Buffy for a couple of weeks, either. Luckily this was one of those times when Xander kept his thoughts to himself, mostly, though, and didn't make it worse for Giles.

Only now they were heading back, and Giles was apologizing to Wes for making him drive, and suggesting that the least he could do was buy the guy a drink, and Xander's evening prospects were looking pretty dim again. At least, until Giles had invited him along. That was a little different, but Xander perked up, thinking maybe that meant Giles was thinking of him as one of the guys. Or, as "one of the guys" as you could get when their group of guys included Wesley and Spike. But, whatever. He had a fake ID. He could have a beer. So he sat in the booth, sipped a beer, and watched Giles and Wes be British with each other. He felt like he was back in high school, watching the two of them argue about some text Wes wanted to take with him when he went back to LA.

Well, that's what he thought he was doing, until he realized he wasn't watching their faces or paying attention to their voices, but had switched to concentrating on their hands.

See, this was one of the other reasons why he didn't really think it was a bad thing that he hadn't promised Anya he was in it for the long haul. He didn't know if it was just watcher hands or what, but…

Wes' hand drummed on the table, and Xander watched the precise movement of each finger. Wondered what those fingers would taste like. Yes, he could admit it, he'd wondered for years. Wondered if the tips were as sensitive as they looked. And Giles – both of Giles hands were around his pint glass, strong hands, kinda bumpy and weathered, not as long as Wes' but … he thought about them too. About how strong they could grip, about how they knew what they were doing, always knew.

It made him remember that one afternoon when he'd caught Wes staring at Giles' hands. That had been crazy, recognizing that the other guy was doing the same thing he was. Wes had raised his eyebrows. It was a challenge, and Xander felt a little competitive spark rise in him, and he grinned back. Yeah, so, he was looking at Giles' hands too. They weren't Wes' property, were they?

He hadn't thought about that in ages, but now, seeing them both gesturing and moving, he wondered again if maybe it was something about watcher hands.

And that was when their waitress brought them the next round

***

.: Giles :.

Giles looked at the fresh pints and turned to the woman setting them on the table, "Thank you, but we didn't order these."

"Oh, no, don't worry about it. This guy over there…" she turned to the bar to point at a man Giles vaguely remembered rescuing from a vampire attack several weeks ago, "bought 'em. Said the least he could do was say thanks for the jam your friend here helped him out of the other night."

Giles felt his eyebrows raise at that. He turned to look at Wesley and Xander, but both looked as surprised as he did. The waitress had lost interest at this point and moved away from their table.

Xander was grinning, "Look at that! I knew that this hero business was going to come in handy someday!" He finished his own beer and reached for one of the new ones. Wesley put his hand on Xander's, and Giles watched as Xander took a small quick breath, and then looked questioningly at Wes.

"Do you know that man?" Wes asked.

"Nah, but I'm guessing that somebody saved him from a fang attack at some point."

"Actually, I think I did." Giles broke in. Wesley looked at him in surprise, but then reached for one of the remaining glasses. "The other night coming home from the college, I found a single vampire stalking a man that looked very much like our benefactor in a blind alley and was able to dispatch him."

"There, see Wes, nothing to worry about!" Xander took a sip of his new drink, and smiled again at them both. "I wish all slaying came with this kind of reward. But, then again, probably make it hard to get home after said slayage."

"Probably." Wesley agreed, although he looked like he privately didn't think a single beer would affect him that much. He took a sip of his own drink and raised his eyebrows in appreciation. "At least he picked something with a taste."

Giles raised his own glass to savor and agreed with Wes. This was better than the first pint they'd ordered – in fact, he knew for sure this wasn't on the menu. Their mystery benefactor certainly had good taste. He took another, larger sip, and felt the refreshing glide.

An hour later and they all had another pint in hand, and they'd moved from talking about books to the Initiative. Giles knew he was being maudlin, but he couldn't help himself.

"You know what gets me? This is what gets me. Twenty years I've been fighting demons. Maggie Walsh and her Nancy-ninja boys come in and six months later, demons are pissing themselves with fear. They never even noticed me."

Wesley drunkenly asked, "Who's Maggie Walsh?"

"Oh, she's awful." Giles screwed his face up in disgust, "She said I was an absent male role model. Absent my ass. I'm twice the man she is."

"Cheer up Giles," Xander slurred, "it's not like Buffy's going to go running off and join the Initiative. She'd hate the uniforms, for one. Besides, what's Maggie Walsh know about you?" Xander reached out and patted Giles' hand across the table.

"That's right, she can't know anything. Who does she think she is, presuming to know what the Slayer needs." Wesley was getting indignant now. "Let's go over there and tell her a thing or two! Gods man, you've helped Buffy survive two apocalypses and a vampire boyfriend intent on raising indestructible demons and destroying the world!"

Giles grinned at the two men who sat opposite him, both defending him in their own way. He'd felt so frustrated minutes ago in the evening, but now, with them both trying to console him in their own ways, he wondered if it wasn't such a bad thing that the evening had worked out as it had. They'd come a long way from that school library. He liked them both though – respected them – as more than comrades at arms. Truth be told, he'd liked to have more than friendship from either one of them, but … that was another story.

***

.: Xander :.

Just then their waitress appeared at the edge of the table, "Last call – anybody interested?"

Xander frowned. It was time to go? But… he didn't want to leave. Giles was finally in a good mood, and … he frowned again as he realized he'd muttered that whole thing out loud. Wes shoved him a little bit with his shoulder and Giles was looking at him with a grin. Ok, fine, maybe he wasn't the soberest of sober people, but he didn't have anything else to do and the thought of the basement was less and less appealing.

Giles cleared his throat, "Well, if Xander doesn't want to go home, and we can't stay here, you'd best both come over. You can get your book, Wesley."

Xander brightened at that. "Okay, but Wes, you gotta let me out before we go. I need to see a man about a horse." Wes looked confused, and Xander pushed a little at him. "Wes, I gotta go." Comprehension dawned (slower than usual, it seemed to Xander, but he didn't really mind, since he was still pushing at a warm shoulder), and Wes scrambled out of the booth. Xander threw some money onto the table for their tab, and half-skipped towards the bathroom, hearing the tale end of Wes' comment as he moved away, "I don't suppose I could impose on you, Giles, for the night? I don't think I'm quite in the best condition to drive at the moment…"

He wandered through the door of the men's room and wondered if Wes was really that much of a lightweight. They'd only had like three beers. Xander himself was feeling pretty good, but not in a beery kind of way. Though, as he pulled up to the urinal, he realized that things were kind of soft around the edges. Pretty, really. Not the room, but kind of the light. And his clothes seemed more comfortable than usual. He stroked a hand down the denim and then freed himself, and sighed in relief. Wow, didn't realize I had to go that bad. Man this is kind of fun. It's been a long time since I've had fun peeing. But even signing was fun, so he kept breathing deep, and felt this silly grin break out. I'm just happy not to be in that crappy basement, and kind of happy to be hanging like one of the guys. That's all he rationalized.

Finishing his business, he moved over to wash his hands, and realized then that the water felt really good. Better than usual. Good enough that he wanted to kind of stay there, under the cool. But then he remembered Giles and Wes out in the bar, waiting for him, so they could go back to Giles' place, and grinned even wider. He dried his hands on his pants mmm… denim and wandered back out.

"Ready to go gentlemen?" he said as he approached the table. Giles smiled up at him, moving to rise, and Wes slid out from the booth. Yep, just three guys, going back to Giles' place to hang out.

***

.: Wesley :.

That was the most fantastic walk he'd taken in years. He really couldn't believe it. But the Sunnydale night had been without fear – just a sparkling crisp California evening. He knew it had something to do with the company though. Xander had babbled and grinned and joked their way through the streets, Giles laughing out right at some of the worst puns, and Wesley felt as if these two men were somehow sharing friendship with him in ways they hadn't before. And the air felt so good! They trooped down Giles' stairs, rather, he and Giles trooped down them and Xander hopped like a bunny, grinning madly all the way, and they had trouble keeping their voices down for the neighbors.

Not that Giles was any help. He turned at his front door with keys in hand and said, with a clear voice and a smile, "Shhhh! I have neighbors, you know, and they like to sleep."

"Sure Giles, you totally have neighbors," Xander grinned back, not bothering to keep his voice down, "but you think they're going to notice us when they didn't even come out for the Shumash attack?"

"Shumash attack?" Wesley wondered aloud.

"Yeah, you must've heard about it from Angel, right Wes?" Xander bumped his shoulder against Wes' again, a sensation Wes was rapidly beginning to enjoy.

They tumbled through Giles' door, and Wesley remembered Angel's trip to Sunnydale. "Oh absolutely. Angel came back complaining about Buffy's new paramour, and … " he grinned and butted Xander's shoulder with his own, "Was that when you got the funny syphilis, Xander?"

Apparently nothing could dampen Xander's mood. He toed his shoes off, plunked down, feet and all, on Giles' couch with a laugh and a strangely nostalgic smile. "Yeah, although it didn't feel exactly great at the time. But at least Giles let me crash on his couch while I was sick." He smiled at the owner of the apartment, who moved the offending socked feet into his lap as he sat on the other end of the couch.

Giles petted Xander's feet and his eyes crinkled, "My furniture is yours anytime Xander. Especially when you get the mystically induced diseases." That made Xander laugh again and murmur his thanks.

Wesley found himself standing in front of them, unwilling to sit across the room on the other chair and unable to figure out why it seemed so offensively far away. Both men were watching him, both seemed relaxed, and he watched as Giles' hand moved over Xander's foot, and Xander's hand moved to pet his own stomach. Xander closed his eyes, "That feels good Giles. Wesley, you need to sit down. You're too tall like that."

Wesley nodded, as if statements like that made perfect sense. He mourned, "It's just that the chair is so far away."

"Then sit on the floor," Giles suggested, pushing the coffee table with his feet so that there was more room for Wesley. Wes settled on the floor in front of Giles, between his legs, leaning against the furthest one so he could turn to see both men above him. He took a deep breath, then relaxed, and Giles' free hand reached out to pet him. Wes leaned into the touch, and then had a momentary sense of disorientation. This wasn't really how he usually interacted with Giles or Xander, and he was fairly sure this wasn't how they acted with each other, either. He almost said something, but was distracted by the feeling of Giles' hand in his hair, the warmth radiating from the man's legs, and the feeling of contentment that settled over him.

He closed his eyes, and titled his head so it was leaning against Giles' knee, felt those fingers sliding through his hair again and smiled.

***
.: Giles :.

"Something's different" Giles mused aloud, as he scratched at Wesley's hair, loosening the gel and enjoying the rough blunt edges of the ends.

"Yeah, I know. Feels good though." Xander responded from the other end of the couch, his eyes closed down to slits now.

Wesley butted Giles' hand, almost like a kitten, "We don't usually sit around and pet each other. I wonder if it was the beer?" His voice was soft, a little rougher around the edges as if he was a bit dreamy too.

Giles considered. Of course, while he considered he continued to push his thumb up the arch of Xander's foot, and smiled at the "mmmm" noise the man made. Really, Xander was adorable like this, relaxed and sleepy looking. Giles breathed deeply, remembered Wesley leaning against him, and wondered at his own contentment.

"I suspect…" he began, while watching Wes remove his glasses and set them on the coffee table. Wes moved back against his legs, snuggling between them, and wrapped his arm around one. Giles lost his train of thought when Wesley dropped his head against Giles' knee and nuzzled, just a little. It sent shivers through him, as if Wesley was doing more than simply cuddling around his leg.

He cleared his throat. "I suspect it was the beer. Although I'm wondering if we were somehow given ecstasy."

"Ecstasy? Like, you mean, the drug ecstacy?" Xander opened his eyes at that, and Giles noticed his pupils were impossibly large in the soft light. "How would you know? Have you done it before?"

"Not really my thing, but I've heard of it." Giles responded, and wondered if his own pupils were that large. He knew he should be worrying right now, but he didn't really feel the need. The only thing he really felt like doing was being exactly where he was. "Or perhaps it was a spell? I've never heard of a spell quite like this, but I can't imagine that someone hasn't invented one at this point."

From below he felt Wesley humm his agreement, "I thought something was funny. I wonder if your friend from the bar did that?" He looked up at Giles, and then at Xander, "Although, I find that I'm not as concerned as I probably should be."

Xander laughed. "Yeah, we're all sitting here calmly discussing this like we were talking about what we ate for dinner. It's probably because we're distracted. That's why I had so much fun in the bathroom though, huh?"

Giles felt the beginnings of an indulgent frown start, "Fun in the bathroom? What were you doing in there Xander?"

"Oh, nothing, the usual, but my jeans felt really comfortable in there. And the water was really soft. Kinda like right now. Your couch is the most comfortable place in the universe." He stopped for a moment, looking speculatively at Giles and Wesley both. Giles noticed Wes still had his eyes closed. He had such a lovely face. Giles couldn't help himself – he ran a single finger down that cheekbone and watched Wesley's lips as they smiled.

"Giles?" Xander asked, and caught his attention away from the man against his knee. Xander sat up, and then moved towards Giles' end of the couch. "Can I snuggle too?"

Giles felt a surge run through him at the question. Oh, it was a lazy surge, a warm rush that tingled from head to toe, then lodged in the back of his throat and made his cheeks feel tight from smiling so much. He didn't want to deny Xander anything at this moment, and so raised his arm, and Xander settled in, this time stretching his feet in the other direction. Giles heaved a great sigh, and then curled his arm tighter around the younger man. He was a heavy perfect weight against Giles' side. But Xander kept twisting, as if he couldn't get comfortable. Wesley shifted again on the floor.

"Am I the only one perfectly comfortable here?" Giles asked.

Xander moved a little to grin up at him, and Wesley nodded against his knee. "The floor isn't soft. Is there anywhere else we can all sit together?" Wesley asked, a longing tone in his voice.

"Wesley?" Xander said, "Are you asking what I think you're asking?"

Wesley turned his head towards Xander, and in the world's most serene voice said, "I think I am. What do you say Xander? Giles?" Wesley looked towards him, and Giles felt his bones melt under the heat of that heavy lidded stare. He couldn't say no to that, whatever it was Wesley was asking… offering…

He whispered into the shell of Xander's ear, "What do you think, Xander? Should we take him up on his offer?" Xander shuddered, and Giles felt anther surge of want, knowing his voice could do that. Well, his voice combined with whatever Wesley had just put on offer.

"Yeah," came the breathless reply. "Yeah, we definitely should."

***

.: Wesley :.

They were both grinning down at him, and Wesley didn't want to blink for fear that this was just a dream. It felt like it, like every movement was more charged than real, and that the words Xander had just uttered still hung in the air with a caressing weight. But he didn't want to wake up. Oh no, he wanted to dive deeper. And apparently that was fine with the two men above him.

He took Xander's assent as the invitation it was, and stopped resisting that pouting bottom lip on the other man. He leaned across Giles' leg to capture it, eyes closing as he brushed against Xander's mouth. It was succulent, that kiss, and Wesley thought he might just be able to stay there forever, lips against Xander's, feeling the pressure get stronger as Xander's surprise gives way to interest. And then Xander's lips parted, his tongue brushed along Wesley's lips, and he felt as if a live wire hand exploded in his spine as he opened his mouth to the other man. Everything movement of their lips together was soft, explorative, as if neither man could quite believe what was happening, and yet Wesley was loath to pull away.

Until he heard Giles groan above him. That delicious noise was enough to surprise him away from the tender heat of Xander's lips, to look at the watcher above him, and see those green eyes darkening. Wesley realized Giles' hand had slipped to the back of his neck, and had been kneading through his kiss with Xander.

Xander, who leaned away from Wes, panting. Wesley smiled. He'd made Xander pant.

"Oh man. Ok, um… Giles?" Xander seemed to be caught in a long slow blink, "Giles, any way we can get Wes up here? Because that was worth doing again."

Wesley smiled. He liked the sound of that. The thought of kissing Xander over and over, until he completely breathless.

"I think," Giles responded, "I think we're going to have to move to the loft, to do this properly." Wesley glanced upward, remembering that the only thing Giles had in the loft was a bed. He couldn't help himself, he moaned. "I think Wesley's in agreement." Giles chuckled. "Xander?"

Xander slid off the couch and stood, holding out his hands to pull Wesley from the ground. "Bed? Oh, yeah, I think I can get on board with that."

~ TBC ~

Thunderdome

2007-05-12T23:53:00.000-07:00

Title: Thunderdome

Pairing: Mal/Oz

Rating: PGish (pre-slash)

Disclaimer: Misuse is unintentional. Borrowing is a productive process. Joss is fairly fabulous, and you can tell I'm not exactly him.

Feedback: Always welcomed and very appreciated. If you do have concrit, I'd prefer it if you'd email to katekat1010 @ livejournal.com.

Written for and in particular who requested nostalgia, awe, and a cup of coffee. Well, at least I got the coffee!

A/N: Oz fell into the Firefly universe through a dimensional hole. No, it wasn't random: it was created when Willow was doing the spell for the slayers - they were popping up all over, but since he's not in contact with the Council he wouldn't have known. This occurs sometime prior to the timeline for the film Serenity.

Translation Notes: (all translations are from here)
Kuágrén = madman
Hundan = Bastard
shun-sheng duh gao-wahn = holy testicle Tuesday
lángrén = werewolf

A/N2: I'd like to thank for not only doing a last minute beta, but being fabulous, giving me huge help, and making this better. All corrections are hers, all remaining mistakes are mine.

A/N3: Finally, I need to thank my darlingest because not only did she read this, she offered me fabulous beta advice, over IM of all things, to help this get better.

**********

Mal walked to the caf, lured by the smell. Something was cooking. Smelled better than chocolate – darker somehow. Found Oz waiting patiently, watching a glass stein filled with . . . dirt?

"Want some?" asked the man at the table.

Mal licked his lips. "Does it taste the same way it smells?"

"Not exactly. Unless you make it sweet." Flash of smile. Packets of sugar suddenly spilled onto the table.

Mal fiddled with the stopper on the stein. "What's it called?"

"Coffee."

**********

Mal didn't know how he'd done it, but . . .he fit perfectly. It wasn't that he was small, not that it hurt; no, it had nothing to do with size. Hell, Jayne fit on Serenity. No, it wasn't that about Oz. From the moment Kaylee'd made pouty eyes at him, told him that the only way they could get the converter they needed was to let Oz on board. From the moment Mal said yes . . . Oz fit.

Mal got used to seeing him walking around the corner. Talking to Book about that damn bible and playing poker with Jayne. Watching River make growly noises with a smile. He didn't get that one.

**********

Mal had a bad feeling in his gut. Didn't get any better when they were led to a dais instead of a cozy back room. A dais with a ceremonial warrior armed to the teeth on each step. Got worse when their contact turned out to be a pierced and chained headman whose accent was so thick he could barely make out words.

Something about a trial. He knew the guy said something about a trial. But after trying out one of his best "charming boy" smiles and getting absolutely no reaction, Mal knew this conversation wasn't going to go anywhere fast.

Nope. The only thing that moved fast were those ceremonial boys, who were looking mighty unceremonial as they surrounded him and Oz.

"Mal, what's going on?" Oz asked, as they rotated, completely surrounded by the foreboding men.

"I'm getting the sense that these boys aren't real friendly."

"You think? What did the headman say?"

Mal edged closer to the one avenue of escape, his hand on Oz's arm, all the while keeping his eyes on the men who were closing in… "Not too sure. I think he understood what we wanted, but I don't think he's terribly inclined to give it up."

Just as Mal was about to put his foot on the final step that would get them safely back to Serenity, the guards pulled their spears into a locking circle around them, barring their way to anywhere safe.

"That might be a problem" Oz said.

**********

Mal crossed the cargo bay, on his way back from talking to Kaylee about that final engine part Oz had silver-tongued his way into getting for them in the last port. He saw them down below, Oz and Simon, playing weiqui.

"Why does River call you wolf?" Simon was asking, putting a black piece on the Weiqi board.

Oz waited a few moments, considering the game. "She didn't tell you?" He placed his white piece slowly, carefully.

"No, she said I'd have to ask you myself. She said . . . that things were different where you'd come from, and that you were more than just a JOAT. Then she started signing a nursery rhyme." Simon leaned over the board, placing another piece, and then softly sang, "Who's afraid of the big bad wolf?"

Mal watched as Oz looked sharply at the other man's head bent over the game. He didn't think Simon had caught the glance, but from where he stood it was clear as day. Oz looked … worried.

"What's a JOAT?" Mal thought Oz had wanted to ask another question entirely, but that's what came out of his mouth.

"You know, a Jack of All Trades… you're the man who knows what we need and where to get it." Simon smiled, a little bewildered at Oz's ignorance.

Something in Oz seemed to relax at that. "Yeah. Well, I've always been a social person."

Just then Kaylee walked out of the engine room, and all of Simon's attention was diverted. Oz, on the other hand, looked directly up at Mal, and smiled a small smile that left Mal feeling as if he'd missed the joke.

**********

Mal turned away from the bars in the window of their cell. He hated this. Unceremoniously shoved into a dirty six-by-six space that stank. No place to sleep, no place to shit. Not an ideal accommodation for anybody.

Three days. They had to survive for three days. And if they were alive after three days Mal was personally going to kill somebody. Oz had laughed when he'd said that out loud.

Mal couldn't believe it though. Well, he could believe it, it was just his luck that the easy peasy job had turned into a * shun-sheng duh gao-wahn*. Hell that they were going to have to fight their way out of. Hell that no one on Serenity knew about. The rendezvous with Wash wasn't for another week. And they weren't being allowed anywhere close to a vid to tell them otherwise.

He hated fights. Oh, sure, give him a good bar fight. But he hated this "prove your strength and worthiness" crap. Hated that it was just him and Oz that were going to have to do it, too. Hated that he had to think about it for an entire evening. No guns blazing here. No, they'd have to win with fists at dawn. And again. And again.

"Never seen you in a brawl." He turned to Oz, standing quietly beside him, "You ever been in a fight like this?"

"Not exactly, but I should be ok."

Confusing response, but Mal just nodded. "Just remember, these are nasty men, with nasty intentions. Don't let ‘em corner you."

Mal turned back to the window in the cell. It had a great view – if you felt like seeing the arena where men would soon try to spill their blood. It was going to be one hell of a fight. He just wished they were out there now, instead of sitting around in this stank cell *thinking* about it.

"Mal…"

"Oz?"

"Got something to tell you."

**********

Kaylee whined in that winning way she had. Mal refused. She whined the next time they touched down on Evercrest, and the next one after that. Mal didn't want extra passengers, even if this *kuagren* could get them every missing part they needed as soon as it broke. Kaylee apparently introduced him to Wash, and now they were both after Mal to let this strange guy on board. Something about wanting Serenity to actually run right for a change. They kept ragging Mal about that damn converter, and that Oz wouldn't give it up unless he was allowed to come along.

Mal sighed, and agreed to meet the man. He was sure that Kaylee and Wash had cooked up this extortion "plan", and he didn't like it one bit. But he met the JOAT, for them. Only true spacers needed their own JOAT, and his crew was just fine the way it was. But he couldn't stand the nagging. And they needed that part.

Oz wasn't quite what Mal was expecting. Sure, JOATs came in all sizes and shapes, but usually they talked a little more than this guy. Usually they tried to convince Mal they were needed with endless bravado. Usually once they'd sprung the trap of asking for a free ride, they did everything they could to make you feel the thumbscrews. This man didn't even bother. Made Mal curious.

"Why should I bring you on board again?" Mal asked, "You've got my crew all fired up, but you don't seem to care one way or t'other."

"I'd like to do some traveling again, and Kaylee says you run a good ship. But it's up to you if you take me on or not."

Not a bad answer, but Mal had to ask, "Kaylee put it that you insisted I let you on board. Said we couldn't have the converter unless we took you on too. You have anything to do with that?"

Oz looked surprised, "Huh. Well, I knew she had a plan, but didn't know that was it. You can have the converter if you want it. Don't have to take me too."

"That's it? You don't want plead your case?" Mal was shocked. Gave him an opening and he didn't take it.

"Nah. I'd like to get off planet, but I don't do blackmail."

He liked that. Liked that a lot. Maybe Kaylee wasn't so wrong. "So, you don't mind seeing the finer back woods and narrow ways of this great universe? Kaylee didn't make you promises of inner-planets and fancy balls did she?"

Oz smiled, and Mal noticed his whole face changed, even though you might not see it unless you were looking closely. "Back woods are fine with me. Not much of a fancy man myself."

Mal couldn't disagree. In fact, he wondered if this JOAT was worth his while. But he'd gotten them a whole rasher of parts every time they were in port, at below cost. And Kaylee said he could do it again. He trusted her, and her sense of what was good for Serenity. It's what made her family.

"Well, I'm not bowled over by your personality, Mister Oz, but you'll do. Kaylee vouches for you, and if it's one thing she knows, it's what's good for the running of Serenity. If you'd like to come with us, you'd be welcome."

Oz nodded, a little glint in his eye. "Thanks. But it's not Mister Oz, it's just Oz."

**********

He never trusted anyone right off. Not anymore. But there was something about that Oz. They hadn't exchanged more than thirty words, but there was . . . something. Mal realized he liked to watch Oz move around the ship. He went from room to room like it was still new, like he could see the original paint on the walls. Or something.

He did that with people though, too. Never surprised by what they said, no, that wasn't really Oz's way. But he delighted in ‘em. Liked talking to Jane, or listening to him go on and on about Vera. The day Mal had stopped on the edge of the kitchen to hear that conversation was a laugh. Oz was willing to listen to anyone, about everything – from flintlock to magazine, cleaning mech to dealer.

But it was more than that. He caught Oz signing to River one day, an old guitar clutched in his hands. River went off on some ramble about angles and cowboys, and Oz didn't do anything but smile. And Mal could tell it was one of those delighted smiles, like he could've sat there all day.

Made him see why Oz was such a good JOAT. After three days he'd heard the life stories of the entire crew, and they all just . . . accepted him. Mal was surprised to find that he didn't mind. Oz wasn't the type to share all his secrets. Or anybody else's.

**********

The headman gestured again, and the guards poked them down the dais.

"Now, now, gentlemen," placated Mal. "We're all friends here, aren't we?"

All he got was a grunt in reply. They were steered around the compound, and they walked around a corner to find this gigantic dome of metal in front of ‘em.

Oz started laughing. Mal looked at him in curiosity and a bit of fear. Wasn't like Oz, really, to laugh that much.

Between giggles, Oz explained, "There's a . . . story where I come from. Story about a dome made of metal, where men fight to the death. The story goes, ‘Two men enter, one man leaves.'"

Mal grimaced, since he couldn't quite see the humor. "Best be two men leaving tomorrow, and the days after that, if I have anything to say about it."

Oz grew quiet, serious again, and nodded.

**********

Something still bothered him though. He lay in his bunk below the decks, listened to the warm hum of Serenity as they sped away from another job well done, and wondered what it was. Some itch he couldn't seem to scratch. Pictures flashed in his head.

White skin. A pink shadow on a jaw-line just going to stubble. A grin that he could tell was a grin from just a twitch of the lips.

Mal pounded his pillow, turned over, closed his eyes. And was caught again, by a memory of calm storm colored eyes.

He didn't know what was wrong with him. The pictures kept coming though, turning and tossing doing nothing to stop ‘em.

Then came the full sense – sight and touch and sound. The sight of that pale skin lade bare beneath him. The sound – a low murmur turning into a growl – he'd never heard a man growl, but he liked the thought of it. Touching, being touched, made his body writhe on the sheets. He gasped.

And woke. And wondered when he'd slipped from waking to dreaming. When Oz had gotten that far under his skin?

**********

They stood back to back in the center of the metal dome. Men crawled along the outside, screaming, chanting, jeering. They pounded on the metal structure and made it clang. Above them there was a cloudless blue sky, mocking Mal with its pretty color.

Inside, it was just fith. Filth piled around the bottom of the dome, fith standing outside it, fith came after them with fists and guts; stinking of fear, trying to make him and Oz fail. The ground was packed dirt, with blood spattered here and there, and he'd had a bad feeling when they'd walked in.

Oz insisted that he call it Thunderdome. He couldn't quite get the joke, but it made Oz smile. Mal wondered at the man gone furry at his back. Who would've thought, a lángrén? Mal grinned a feral smile at the fear he saw in the faces of the crowd the first time Oz changed. They were gonna beat these men. Beat ‘em to the bone.

**********

It was his kind of job. Easy peasy. Mr. Universe needed a package picked up. A world that didn't have major fire power. He and Oz could hop down, pick up, and be out before anyone was the wiser.

Zoe didn't approve of running errands for Mr. Universe, but Wash was on board. They'd planned it so everybody else would be off getting new supplies at Saganaw base, and he and Oz would meet ‘em back at the rendezvous.

Nobody had said a word about it being him and Oz. Mal wondered a little at that, but chalked it up to that strange power the other man had. Nobody asked him questions he wasn't ready to answer. Did it for both of ‘em, these days.

So they hopped off ship, and into a right mess.

**********

They were winning. He loved that feeling. Loved it. Loved knowing they were striking fear into their hearts with every punch, that strong men shook every time they heard Oz howl. Hell, it'd made the hair on the back of his head stand up the first time he'd heard it, but now it was part of the sounds of their opponent's defeat.

Two days. They'd made it through two days with nothing from the crowd but jeers and shrieks. Nothing from their jailors but grunts. Nothing from the thieves and murderers put in to fight them but the sounds of fists whistling through the air.

Now, on the third day, it was quiet. Something big was coming. Mal knew it in his bones. His hands were bloody from fighting, and Oz had blood on his muzzle. But he knew they were gonna beat this last bastard and were getting home.

At least he knew it until the ten-foot giant they'd saved for the last day stepped through the metal gate and it clanged shut behind him.

"What right did one man have to get so damn big?"

"Maybe he ate all his vegetables growing up." Oz responded, as Mal realized he'd said his thought out loud.

"Must be." Mal girded himself, "This is the last, Oz. He may be big, but you know what they say. . ."

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall?" Oz asked.

"Sounds like a damn fine plan to me."

Mal decided to wade in, and get this show on the road. That was his last real thought for a while; he and Oz moved in unison, to take that giant *hundan* down.

But he wouldn't go. Mal punched him, straight on, everything he had behind his punch, and the bastard just grinned at him. Oz tried jumping onto his back, and was thrown off and against the iron grating. They brushed themselves off, and tried again. Mal decided to stop being polite, and kicked the man right in the family jewels. He got mad at that. Mal didn't care – he liked mad.

Or he liked it well enough until that giant fist connected with his face, and he dropped to the ground like a stone.

**********

He woke to find Oz's human face above him. A smile bloomed in those eyes, erasing the concern that had drawn the sides of his cheeks in. Mal liked him better smiling. Oz's smile widened, and Mal realized he'd said that out loud.

He tried to sit up, but found he was weaker than he'd thought. And he was back on Serenity.

"Oz? We made it then?"

"We made it."

Simon piped in at that moment, "Well, you almost didn't make it. That was quite a concussion. And if you expect to be able to stand up on your own for the next two days, you've got another thing coming."

Mal started at that, "Why not? I just took a knock to the head, right?"

Simon shook his head in dismay.

He turned to Oz, "Right, Oz?"

"Not exactly Mal. He kind of broke your ankle when I was taking him down."

Mal sank back. Zoe appeared in the doorway. "And if you think you're going to get off easy just because you've got a broken ankle . . ."

Wash came up beside her, "Now Zoe, I told you I wasn't their fault. You can't go blaming them."

She raised her eyebrows in that quelling look that Zoe could do so well. "You probably don't want to talk to me right now about being nice, since you were involved in this little job as well, and I'm not exactly in the mood to think about my *husband* lying to me."

Jayne appeared in the doorway behind her, "Yeah Mal, you could've at least invited us to your fun."

"Fun? Jayne . . . trust me fun it wasn't." Mal looked up at Oz, still standing beside him, "Next time I'll pass on that kind of fun." Oz smiled a little again, in agreement. "I don't suppose I could get off this gurney and rest in my own bed?"

"You can, if someone will help you get there." Even Simon sounded annoyed at them.

Oz moved to release the restraints, "I'll help you."

Mal grinned up at him. "Been doing that a lot lately."

"Yeah, it's not such a bad job, as far as it goes," came the reply. Mal thought he could get used to that.

5 Things

2006-08-27T22:21:00.000-07:00

5 ways Spike and Giles Never met.

1. His father had rewarded him for his first term performance with a look at the vampire archives. The records of known vampires – things he would have full access to once he was done with training, but that was many years away. Rupert poured over the charcoal drawings of the Scourge of Europe, his finger tracing a cheekbone of the vampire that looked too young to be so cruel, and wondered what it would be like to have no soul, no responsibilities, no conscience.

2. Ripper stood at the fringe of all the madness, pissed at Ethan for getting them in and adoring him for it. Then a shock of blond hair passed him and all thoughts of Ethan fled at the memory of those cheekbones in charcoal and lurid thoughts in a library once upon a time. Ripper couldn’t resist. he had to see if the devil that looked out of those eyes was as evil and as tasty as he’d thought. He found his answers in a dark corner of the party, where no one could see them. Spike was amused by his boldness and Ripper learned reality is much better, and far more dangerous, than any schoolboy fantasy.

3. He didn’t care if he lost a little bit of his soul. After losing Randall, he knew he didn’t have much of one left, anyway, so asking some nameless vampire to suck it away with his blood for a few minutes of oblivion didn’t seem like such a high price. What he didn’t expect was blue eyes that challenged him, an amazing mouth wandering over him, calling up better memories than those he could not seem to put away, and sharp teeth that pierced his skin making his body burn with loss and lust and life.

4. He gave Buffy a lift into the heating tube, and then turned down the hall to find others and get them out. Instead of humans though, he caught sight of Spike and was struck dumb. Even in game-face and snarling at minions he was beautiful. Giles shook his head, and suddenly Spike noticed him. Noticed him and grinned, that predatory grin that shot fire into Giles’ veins. For a long moment the world narrowed to that hall, with the two of them standing, staring, wanting. Then something down another hallway crashed them both out of their reveries. Spike was out of sight in the blink of an eye and Giles headed in the opposite direction, looking to find the other humans that were trapped.

5. There was a knock, and Giles knew it wasn’t the children at all. He dreaded, and wanted, the door to open on a vampire with blue eyes and blond hair. So when it happened, he couldn’t be surprised, not by that. What shocked him was the way his body reacted, the way he almost said the words of invitation, the way he almost forgot that he had to resist that smile and those eyes, and those lips. But he knew he had to be careful now – he had other things, other people, a Slayer, that he had to live for. He stood firm. Nevertheless, when temptation called with such beautiful lips, he couldn’t resist one kiss, standing in the doorway between the night and the light, Spikes lips cool against his own.

*************************

5 ways Buffy notices, even when she’s not supposed to.

1. Giles always limps after they’ve sparred. Nothing that anyone else would see – just a half second slower on his left side. She wishes she could tell him they don’t have to practice, so that he wouldn’t be in pain, but he’d never be ok with that. Instead, every time it gets almost pronounced enough for others to see it, she beggs off. Giles thinks she needs a night off to go to the Bronze or something, and she doesn’t care if that’s what it takes to give him just a little more time to heal.

2. Her Watcher doesn’t go home some nights, when he’s researching hard and fast and furiously. He hides the signs – he’s got two spare suits in his office and it’s not like he’s never alert, with all the gallons of tea. But she sees the little extra rumple in his hair, the little curve in his not so perfectly knotted tie, and she has this overwhelming feeling that she should thank him. But that’s silly, because it’s not her that he’s doing this for, it’s the world. Every night she goes out and saves the world a little bit, but she wouldn’t know how to without him.

3. After a couple of hours of translation, especially if he’s writing with a fountain pen, his hands cramp. He has exercises that he’s supposed to do – he did them once – but it’s like he won’t do them now because he doesn’t want to admit to the pain. She can see it, though. She can see it and all she wants to do is grab his hand and make him stop writing for a minute, calm his fingers down and warm them up. Hold his hands, his beautiful hands, in her own, just for a little while.

4. He was relaxed. Relaxed in a way that she didn’t want to think about too closely because it reminded her of band candy and patrol cars and thoughts that weren’t hers. Even when he’s slightly embarrassed that she’s standing there, that they’re standing there, all three of them, he doesn’t blush – just smiles with chagrin – because he’s relaxed. It makes her a little envious, because she’s never felt that relaxed, not from sex… not yet at least.

5. When he’s truly happy he giggles. Giggles like a fifteen-year old who’s gotten away with hiding the porn mags under his bed. It’s a new thing, this giggling, but she knows it comes from the best place, because it’s the same place that her urge to smile and hug every one comes from. That place where you’re so happy you want every body else to be that happy too. She’s been smiling for two days and can’t seem to stop, and he’s been giggling at Xander’s jokes and Anya’s deadpan and Willow’s babble. Every one’s starting to give them both the ‘hmmm, straightjacket?’ looks. And she doesn’t think her smile can get any wider until he goes and throws his arm over her shoulder when they’re researching that night. The crazy-looks turn into understanding-looks and all she can do is stare into green eyes and grin the biggest grin she’s ever had. And all he does his giggle, a little, and smile down at her like she’s the most precious thing in his world. Which is fine with her.

*************************

5 ways Buffy stopped Glory (without jumping)

(ps - screwing with cannon a bit to get these accomplished)

1. The Bloody One:

Buffy saw him, saw them, she thought, down an alley, through the vampire dust. Three hours before the witching hour and she found them lurking a block away from the Magic Box. She couldn't believe her luck. They were fighting with each other, and the moment she heard Ben give in to Glory she knew that she could kill him. It was messy when she launched herself at him and struck his chest. Human - or not quite human - bones crunched and shifted. There were all kinds of fluids that vampires never ... guess they really were more human in that moment. All in a second, all those months of fear, were gone. She stood in the alley and looked at the blood on her hands.

2. The Happy One:

They modified the spell to include the new ones. This time it read "Make us innocence, valor, strength, mind and heart and spirit joy. Let the hand encompass us. Do thy will." Willow still said it, and Giles still lit the candles, and Xander still chanted along, but this time Tara was able to burn the incense, and Anya drew the circle, and Spike did more than guard. This time they were six strong, those who lent their power to Buffy - the power of the dead and the undead, the former demon and the healer, combined with the Watcher and the Witch and the Heart. And this time Buffy felt as if she was going to explode with power. It was enough. It was more than enough. They saved the world, with joy and laughter and tears and terror. Again. And this time, there weren't any angry dreams.

3. The One With Character Death:

"You know you have to let me." Dawn cried, "It has to have the blood. It has to be me." She looked up, fierce and almost angry, “It’s my turn to save the world, ok Buffy? You gotta let me save the world this time.” Buffy nodded through tears. She knew. Knew her heart was breaking, knew she'd failed ... and this time she couldn’t fix it. The First Slayer’s words echoed in her brain. She held onto Dawn as long as she could, before the gap got too big. Dawn hugged her back, and whispered, “now” as Buffy nodded, and then softly slipped the knife between her little sister's ribs. "Thank you," Dawn whispered. "Buffy, thank you... just… promise, promise not to forget me." Buffy nodded again, no words left. The gaping hole in the sky began to close just as the blood stopped flowing from the wound Buffy had made. Wouldn’t stop the hole in her heart. That would be there forever. But it was done.

4. The Silly One:

"You found a WHAT?" Giles thundered. Willow looked down at the book again, but she wasn't going to back down, even if Giles was freaked. She patiently explained the ritual. The ritual sex. The ritual sex that, if they all participated, her and Buffy and Giles and Xander, if they did it right, would obliterate Glory and every one associated with her. So that's what they did. They got the special candles, they got the secret oil (that was really just pure rosemary oil with some rose petals thrown in), and they signed the "we resolve never to speak of this again" paper Xander had typed up and photocopied. They grinned at each other after the magical sparkles dissipated, and Xander decided it was his favorite method to stave off apocalypse. Funny how Buffy and Giles and Willow kind of agreed.

5. The Utterly Absurd One:

They had a plan. A plan involving the hammer, the sphere, and a small nuclear bomb that Xander had managed to scavenge from the local army base. Yeah, who knew? But it fit in the palm of Buffy's hand, and she figured even 'she who must not be named' would be knocked back a bit by the fire of a million suns. It worked, more perfectly than anybody could've anticipated - they followed Tara, got there before anybody had the chance to take Dawn up those rickety steps. The hammer and the sphere weakened Glory enough that Willow could do her spell, and Buffy could shove that activated (and conveniently timer-ed) nuclear device down her throat. When it went off, Glory's skin contained the explosion, and it was like she melted inside an iron husk. Dawn had wanted to roast marshmallows, but Buffy didn't really think it was such a great idea. Instead Willow and Giles did a spell to stick her destroyed body in a toxic waste dump, and they called it a day. A very long, very weird, day.

*************************

5 Ways Xander Knows He Doesn't Love Deadboy

1. Because he's never aware of the way Spike is always moving. Nope. Xander never watches all that coiled tension, never sees the bunch of muscles under tight t-shirts or painted-on jeans.

2. Definitely not because those slim pale fingers draw his eyes. It's for sure, those fingers wouldn’t feel great spread across skin. Of course he never notices how Spike's always doing something with his hands, smoking, clenching, running those fingers in-between t-shirt and pants, revealing a little sliver of tight stomach. Nope, Xander never sees those fingers at all.

3. Because soulful eyes don't draw him in. They really don't. He's not some girl to be distracted by them when they kind of shine, especially when combined with that soft voice Spike uses sometimes when he's serious. There's no way Xander's falling for those dark eyes that kind of glow when Spike's grinning, twinkle when he's about to run into a fight, or get all soft and three shades darker when the real smile Spike shows actually transforms his face. No way.

4. Especially not because Xander's noticed that Spike is fiercely loyal. No, that's not attractive at all. That's not what makes Xander's heart flutter, when Spike gets protective and fierce, when he demands respect because he's stuck to his word. That doesn't make Xander want to curl up right next to the vampire. No, it doesn't. It really doesn't.

5. Of course it wouldn't be because Spike can be so sweet. No, there's no way Xander could love Deadboy because of his tenderness. There's no way Xander's heart skips a beat when he watches Spike stroke Dawn's hair off her face, when he sees Spike curl his arm around Tara, when he notices Spike making sure Giles stays further back in the fight so he won't get hurt.

Xander totally knows he doesn't love Deadboy for any of those reason. Totally not because any of those things at all.

*************************

...and the totally goofy and multi-partner switching Xander....

5 Ways Xander Did Not Get Knocked-Up

1. He didn't do that spell with Willow and Tara. The mystical, magical, artificial insemination spell. He didn't damnit! It was just a crazy dream brought on by too many triscuts and spray-bacon-cheeze-whip. And that was why his stomach hurt. Just the cheeze! Really!

2. He didn't run afoul of Angel and that Gnostic-whatitis demon at the same time. No, he didn't jump in the way of it's magical stick o'power, and it didn't touch his stomach. It really didn't. He didn't care WHAT Angel said.

3. He didn't follow Spike down to the cellars the other day, to clean out the M'Zarnuk nest. And even if he had, he knew he would remember Giles' warning about the possibility of breaking open the eggs and getting pregnant. Wouldn't he? Unless he'd fallen asleep during the Scooby meeting again. But... he'd always had cravings for pickles and cookies and cream ice cream. Right?

4. He didn't have sex with Spike in the middle of Restfield cemetery, spread open in the cool green grass with a blue moon hung in the sky overhead. He hadn't said those words, the words Willow claimed were the claiming spell, he really hadn't... or... he thought he hadn't ... unless he screamed them as Spike moved inside him. But he couldn't be blamed for that, could he? How was he to know that screaming out "I'm yours! I'm yours!" while having sex with a vampire during a blue moon in August when the stars were aligned in the Nostrious combination would get him pregnant? It's not like they taught you that in sex-ed.

5. He really didn't remember waking up in bed with Wesley, Angel, Spike and Giles all at the same time. And he thought he would remember, since he'd had fantasies about them all at one time or another and man, having them all happy and horny in the same place would've been a bonus his young mind wouldn't soon forget, right? He knew they'd all been playing Spin The Bottle (the drinking and kissing game) the night before, and he remembered at the time he walked into the room he’d wondering what the heck was going on and where were the girls. And he totally remembered Angel's lips were softer than he'd thought they’d be and Wesley's stubble was kind of cool, and so was Spike for that matter, and boy, how he liked the feel of Giles' hands on him. So he knew remembered all of that. But waking up? And getting pregnant? Nope, he didn't remember that at all. So it couldn't have happened then, could it? Don't remember it, didn't happen.

Ticklish

2006-08-27T22:17:00.000-07:00

Pairing: G/B

Rating: G? Something light and fluffy

Summary: Buffy’s bored, and it’s summertime. What’s a college girl to do but bug her Watcher?

Timeline: Summer between Season 4 & 5 (sorry, Riley’s not in this picture)

Disclaimer: The real fact is that no infringement on any copyright of any kind is intended, and I’m simply borrowing some names and places and will give them back when I’m done. I’ll even clean them up afterwards. Promise.

Feedback: Much welcomed and forever appreciated.

Notes: To Neil. You'll probably be able to figure out why. (and sadly, this is unbetaed ... so I guess you're warned!)

*************************

Our little story begins on a sunny day in a town called Sunnydale. A Vampire Slayer showed up at her Watcher’s apartment, looking for someone to play with, since she didn’t have summertime classes . . .

“Giles? Hellloooooo? Anyone home?”

His voice floated downstairs, “Buffy? I’ll be just a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

She wandered into the kitchen, checked for drinkables in the fridge, and turned the teakettle on automatically. Then, since there was nothing to do but wait, she stood idly opening and closing cupboard doors. She ran a finger along the counter, watching the contact between fingertip and formica. If she had to pick, she would’ve named the twitchies currently spurring all this idle activity ‘restlessness’. But, right now she didn’t really feel like thinking about it. Just continued on, opening and closing drawers, looking at Gilesian kitchen implements, snooping.

As she opened the doors of the floor-to-ceiling cupboards Giles used for a pantry she heard him step down the last of the stairs. Peeking from behind the door, she was surprised: her Watcher leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, towel in hand, kitted out in sweats and very sweaty. Her hazel eyes took note of his softly curling, slightly askew hair, broad shoulders clothed in a black t-shirt that seemed stuck to a well defined body, and, below tapered hips, there were, revealed, bare feet. She quietly sucked in her breath. Wow. Then her brain synapses reconnected.

“Hiya!” she greeted. “Whatcha doin’ in bare feet?”

Giles shook his head in persistent dismay. The English language was usually so simple, but she always reduced it to rubble with brain-defying contractions. Some had crept their way under his skin, like the mangler herself. He wondered at her momentary hesitation before speaking, but chose to ignore it.

“Greetings. I was ‘doin’ yoga. Now, I assume I’m waiting for the kettle you kindly put on to boil. You?”

Buffy looked back into the cupboard when she realized that if she didn’t she wouldn’t stop checking out her Watcher. Then she took note of the shelf contents, “Realizing that you’re stocked up with enough finger foods to lure 5 Hansel and Gretels into staying! Well, as long as Xander isn’t eating with them. Just what do you do with all of this sugar? It’s like Halloween in summer.”

Without waiting for an answer she began to name what she saw, “Hershey’s Kisses, M&M’s, Marshmellow cream, Truffles, three types of cookies *and* chocolate syrup. Your name may now become synonymous with sugar overload.” Her head snapped back towards his with a little frown, “Yoga? You never taught me yoga. How come you know yoga and I’ve never learned it?”

Giles smiled, loving the lightening quick questions. He chose to answer the latter before he admitted his reasons for the former. “You’ve never really been excited about learning relaxation techniques, so I simply focused on other forms of training. I thought you wouldn’t be interested in it because it’s not terribly . . . animated.”

Buffy noticed the smile – she liked that smile – while she considered both what he did and didn’t say. A couple of years ago she hadn’t trusted “relaxation techniques”, not since the crystal gazing-crucimentium. But now, maybe it was time for more Slayer training?

“I hate to be the one to tell you this Giles, but -- not that this is a bad thing -- you’re kind of covered in sweat. Yoga doesn’t really look relaxing. It seems pretty,” her mouth quirked on the word, “animated to me.”

He ducked his head and grinned at her, “Yes, well, yoga does get rather taxing once you get deeply into the training. I could teach you if you’d like to learn?”

“Yes, please. That’d suit me right down to my toes! Particularly if you have to take your shoes off to do it.”

She thought to herself: [Today is a much better day for bare piggies and learning relaxation! Particularly with my Watcher, who seems to be quite . . . cute when he’s sweaty. . . where did *that* thought come from? Oh, yeah, because he was standing a few feet away looking sexy.]

“What do I need to do?” She asked. She realized that she’d come to the right place to quell her earlier jitters. She smiled to herself. Giles’ was always the right place.

“Well, you might consider changing into that spare set of sweats you have here – your shorts won’t work for some of the poses.”

“Sure.” She headed into the bathroom, stopping by the spare room for her things. She turned back to down the hallway, “And don’t think you’re getting out of explaining the sugar reserves, Giles! When I get out I’m going to expect quality training and good explanations.”

His laugh echoed down the hallway after her.

*******************************************

“Now, just breathe into the posture, extending your hips up as far as you can and feel your blood circulate from the tips of your fingers through the ends of your toes, then back up your body to start the cycle again.” Giles stepped closer to Buffy’s form – she was in classic downward facing dog position, bent in half with hands shoulder length apart. After pushing the coffee table out of the way in the living room, they’d been working for half an hour on the basic positions. Giles was guiding her through them once more, connecting each in a single pattern.

Giles sighed, trying to get rid of the terribly naughty thoughts that crept into his head. His Slayer was stretched before him, relaxing into each pose as if she’d been doing them for years. [Buffy’s so delightfully bend-y. Oh dear lord, now even my thoughts are beginning to sound like her. She’s corrupting me on every level.]

He shook himself out of his daydreams continued, “Lovely. From this position, bring your right foot forward between your hands, turn so you face to your left, rotating your back foot. Now bring your left arm up, reaching towards the sky.” She followed his directions almost perfectly, breathing through her nose, as instructed. But even Buffy’s balance wasn’t completely perfect. Giles reached out to her waist to steady her and his fingers grazed along her ribs.

“Eeek!” Buffy fell over, giggling.

“What did I do?” Giles was confused.

“Giles! You totally tickled me. Some how I don’t think you’re supposed to tickle someone while they’re doing yoga. Not exactly relaxing!”

“If I’d known you were ticklish I might’ve been more careful. You never laughed during training.”

Buffy shrugged, still smiling, “You never ticked me during training.”

Giles arched an eyebrow, “Shall we continue?” Buffy nodded, then tried to assume the same position that she’d been in before, acutely aware of the warm presence of her Watcher standing beside her.

Although she assumed the pose perfectly, Giles couldn’t resist the little demonish streak that made him reach out and graze his fingertips over her ribs again. This time the Slayer squealed, falling directly into her laughing Watcher (as if she could possibly do anything else), pushing him to the ground.

“So not fair, Giles! That time you did it on purpose!!” she cried. “You know what that means, don’t you? REVENGE!”

She sat on top of him and tried to tickle his ribs in return. He struggled to get up, but she held him captured between her legs. She tried tickling his stomach, but got no response. She tried his underarms, and reached behind her to try the back of his knees. Still perched atop him, she growled in frustration.

“Giles! How come you’re not ticklish?”

Giles was having enough trouble not responding to the delightful weight holding him to the floor. He tried to take a deep breath and quell his automatic reaction. He only hoped Buffy would stay distracted enough she wouldn’t notice she was practically sitting on the evidence of his arousal. He yanked his attention back to her question, and smiled a secret smile in response.

“I am ticklish. Simply not in the conventional places.”

Buffy frowned, wondering what Giles meant by conventional places. Back of his neck? Mid thigh? Where? She sat on her Watcher in pretending to think, but more to prolong the contact. She’d been noticing the body now pinned to the floor beneath her for months. Giles appearing in the doorway all sweaty and sexy this afternoon had just added fuel to the flame. And now, after she’d just thoroughly searched that body and found that it was just as fun to touch as it was to stare at, she wasn’t about to move. She could feel the tension in the Watcher between her legs, and she wanted to see just what he’d do next.

Just as she was considering other likely places to attack, Giles began to realize Buffy wasn’t simply trying to tickle him. There was no way she couldn’t know what effect she was having on him, by now. She straddled him, staring down expectantly. He looked back at her, the room thrumming with tension. Dare he move?

Buffy caught his indrawn breath and wondered if he was getting ready to push her off of him. Then she felt something she’d never dared hope – her Watcher’s erection pressed against her. Suddenly she knew why he hadn’t done anything, why he hadn’t tried anything. He was afraid. Well, she wasn’t. Buffy trailed fingers down his chest, watching the hitch of his breath reflected in his face. She smiled her own secret smile at her Watcher, savoring the feel of him, loving the shift of his body under hers.

At her first touch his eyes lit with wild hope, and she couldn’t help but grin back at him. Wordlessly he shifted her, just a little, as if she’d changed his entire world and with a tiny movement he could get in synch with the new alignment. His fingers traced her calves, then came to rest on her thighs, not pressuring, but somehow inextricably possessive.

She splayed both hands on his chest, bracing her weight a little, and leaned over to bring her lips within inches of his own. And stopped just shy of kissing him. He didn’t wait – he couldn’t let her wait – he lifted up and met her lips with his own.

The heat between them that had simmered into existence moments ago suddenly flared so bright they both gasped into each other’s mouths. Handily, this gave way to an exchange of lips and tongues - a stunning kiss that continued for long minutes.

“Is there an alternative word for wow?” she asked, bemused, when her breath came back.

“I believe there are several, although none currently come to mind. That might have been caused by all of the blood leaving my brain, though, so give me a few minutes and I might be a little more helpful,” Giles stroked up and down her back, breathless and heated and teasing. Buffy giggled at him, settling into his arms.

A she lay across his chest, still panting, happy, and curiously unwilling to move, she idly drew designs across his chest with the tips of her fingers. A thought suddenly occurred to her, “Giles? You still haven’t told me where you’re ticklish.”

He grinned a Cheshire smile, “I don’t think I will. You’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

“Just you wait mister!” Buffy challenged, looking determined. “I’ll find that special secret place that makes you giggle. Although . . .” she grinned a mysterious smile, “I think it might take me a *very* long time to find it."

Giles smiled again, this time deeper and far more assured, “I don’t think I’m going to mind one bit."

~ The End ~

After All, She Was The Slayer

2006-07-03T21:11:00.000-07:00

Author: katekat

Date: July 2006

Pairing: Giles/Buffy

Summary/Timeline: Moments after the credits roll on Helpless (Season 3). A quiet moment in the library.

Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. Plot lines aren’t even really mine; they’re just beamed to me via satellite. All hail the mighty and benevolent Joss for making it all possible.

Feedback: Welcomed and appreciated. Concrit is valued as well, although preferred in an email.

Thanks: To my darling Elizabuffy, who betaed this through a headache and who is always willing to let me throw things at her that come out of my brain, even if it’s after a long stretch of time when I wasn’t writing anything at all. All corrections are hers, all remaining mistakes are mine.

*************************

He held his handkerchief to her temple, and she closed her eyes against everything. He’d betrayed her and lied to her, and she sat under his hand, thinking about the look in his eye, the one that said he was sorry and he was hurting and the one she almost didn’t want to face. It would be easier to be angry at him. She wanted to be angry. She’d wanted to send him back with Travers and the rest of them, get rid of him and be done with Slaying – never pick up another stake. Never deal with another dusting. Never ever have to rescue her mom from a bastard vampire psychopath ever again.

But he looked at her with those eyes, so full of pain an hurt and *sorry,* and she just couldn’t hate him. Not as completely as she needed to. There were too many other people who deserved it way more. Travers. The bastard. He wallowed in her pain, wrapped in his stupid smug smile and is oh-so-sanctimonious congratulations She wished she had the energy to beat that smug smile out of him. But she didn’t. She did the only thing that she could think of to hurt him as much as possible – getting rid of him like he wasn’t important, like he didn’t matter, like he had no power over her.

But Giles sat in front of her, still there, still sorry, and she almost wished she didn’t have to open her eyes ever again. Then she wouldn’t have to face him, and the things she knew, on some level, that he needed from her. She was so tired of giving. Even if they didn’t see it that way, that’s what slaying was, a gift that sucked the life out of her as much as it made her strong sometimes. And now she felt like strong wasn’t a word that applied to her; she just wanted to curl up in a ball somewhere, stop thinking about the bastards around her, and stop being the big, bad slayer, just for a couple of seconds.

She could almost taste it… Her own blood. The look he was trying not to give her. The fear of the last couple of days. It was on the tip of her tongue – a bitter pill she didn’t want to have to swallow.

But it hurt just as much to keep her eyes closed. So she opened them, and looked Giles in the face. After all, she was the Slayer.

varations on a theme: chains to bind her

2005-06-26T10:40:00.000-07:00

Pairing: B/G

Rating: FRAO (adults only)

Summary/Timeline: Season Six. How Giles could’ve come back to Buffy. Warning: Major angst ahead!

Feedback: Always welcomed and appreciated.

Notes: [Thoughts] *Emphasis*

Date: 5/16/05

Thanks: To Elizabuffy, the marvelous: you made this better even if it did break every one of our ‘we should never do this in a fic’ rules. Thanks again for getting the change tracking of doom back out to ply it for me. You rock. All corrections are hers, all remaining mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. Plot lines aren’t even really mine; they’re just beamed to me via satellite. All hail the mighty and benevolent Joss for making it all possible.

*************************

Dreaming, he stirred. A tattoo showed on his forearm as he rolled, exposing wide shoulders tapering into slimmer hips. The duvet covered half his body, enough for modesty and comfort. The rest lay bare to the room – salt and pepper sprinkled through the hair on his chest, the strength in his arms, the character in his chin, the blood pulsing through his throat.

In his dreams, Giles watched Buffy slam Spike against a wall and heard the telltale scratch as she pulled his zipper down. He watched it all. He saw her with the vampire again: at the Bronze, against a wall somewhere, down in that dank cave he called his home. He wanted to laugh at the doubled irony – the slayer fucking her prey. He watched the frenzied sex of the vampire and slayer and recognized it for what it was: like met like; predator and predator. There was no yielding, no fumbling, no awkwardness. Only strength and power.

He wanted scream the question “why?” at their flushed faces. But he knew. Steel reinforced flesh. Pleasure and pain. She craved it by whatever means.

He woke, sweating, every muscle tense, knowing he craved her touch as much as the vampire did. His blood beat for her, an ocean away. He woke knowing the dream might’ve been prophecy or prescience or their bond. It didn’t matter. It was true.

He reached for the bottle on the nightstand, pouring whiskey in a glass barely dry. He hadn’t slept long. As the first sip slid down his throat, he mused on dreams…and slayers.

He’d often wondered how Buffy had satisfied the demands of a slayer’s body. The increased strength wasn’t always a blessing; most channeled it with constant training. Or Faith’s constant excess. Buffy seemed unaffected by that sexual need in her high school years, a fact for which he’d been grateful at the time. The thought of having to convince a sixteen-year-old that she had ‘needs’ was abhorrent him. And when she was older, she’d had the Teutonic Poster Boy, and had seemed to get along just fine.

He’d always known she was different, believed she was special, assumed she was unique: that she wasn’t affected by that aspect of the slayer, that it was part of what made her different. He believed her friends and family had balanced the frenzied calling. Perhaps he’d been blind, even about Angel. Was that why she’d been drawn to him? Not for the storybook romance but because of the torture?

The glass rose of its own accord to his lips, the deceptively silky taste smoothing across his tongue. He sipped again, and again, thinking. There was another reason slayers had watchers. He’d just never seen the need in Buffy before: the need for conflict that went deeper than the dusting, the want to struggle against the pain, until it becomes white hot and burns away the impurities. She was born for that. He was born for it, too.

He laughed drunkenly to himself – born for this and she chooses a vampire. [How was I so blind that I didn’t see? It’s the other part of her, so buried no one notices it…so buried not even I noticed it.]

However, Spike wasn’t the one for her. Spike was a danger, chip or no. If she kept going as she was, Spike on one side, the rest of the vampires on the other, she wouldn’t be living anymore. Some day, she’d require that he push too far. Giles realized he’d made a colossal mistake – he’d missed the signs completely. He’d left just when he could have helped her the most. She didn’t need a father, didn’t need him to act the mother-hen. She needed something only he could safely give her.

Whoever sent this dream, I’m glad; glad to know so I can set things right. This is my duty. This is my calling. She. Is. Mine.

*************************

He’d had 18 hours to think about the words he wanted to say. More than eighteen hours, really, as he’d started thinking the moment he woke. In truth there weren’t any proper ones. Seven living languages, dozens of dead or unrecognized ones, and every single word deserted him. Every time he tried to gather the right ones, they fell like burned ashes from his mouth.

He’d found the right words for the travel agent, who’d put him on a plane that afternoon. He’d found the proper responses to customs, who had passed him through without a second glance. Those were the mundane ones, the simple ones, the commonplace words that never left him. They secured him a rental car, and then the only thing between him and Sunnydale was the road.

He knew showing up on her doorstep was unexplainable. But he was here now. He stood in front of the door she’d called home for the last six years, breathing in the Southern California air and trying to gather his courage. He still had nothing but his certainty that she needed him, and that, finally, he could be what she needed; that he had to be what she needed. Otherwise she would die, again.

Before he could move to knock, the door opened, and she was revealed. He was shocked and scared at her appearance. She looked hollow. How could she be so empty? So bone thin? Was she this bad when he’d left her?

Then, when she recognized him, her face lit with joy. He saw the shutters she put on her soul open for the briefest of moments, and her voice was filled with hope when she said, “Giles?”

He responded, to the look and the need and her voice, “It’s me. Buffy, it’s me.”

But, before he could move forward, before he could even reach out his hands, the light was gone. As quickly as it appeared it retreated, to be tucked away. Her shoulders hunched and her body curled around her as if she needed to protect herself, even from him.

Her stare became flat and hard. “What are you back for?” The words weren’t angry; they were lifeless and cold. The kind of cold he knew. He was far too familiar with it. It was the kind of cold that would’ve left him reaching for a bottle if he’d been the one in her place.

He’d known this was going to be difficult, but the gravity of her stare turned him to stone. He knew nothing he could say would break the walls she’d so firmly shoved back into place. Particularly when he’d been part of what put them there.

There were no magic words. So, he tried the truth then, instead.

“You.”

She stared blankly at him, as if his answer wasn’t an answer at all. It was as if she hadn’t heard him. She crossed her arms, pulling them tight to her body, and turned to walk into the house. Over her shoulder she tossed, “Better come in. It’ll be getting dark soon.”

He followed her, watching the way her shoulders moved under her blouse, seeing all the danger signs. The shadows on her skin filled him with horror. She had bruises around her neck, one on her forearm, bruises that wouldn’t have been there if she had been taking care of herself. They would’ve healed in minutes. Instead they looked days old. She had unhealed cuts and scratches up her forearms. Cuts that wouldn’t have been there in the first place had she been at full strength.

But he knew, he knew with the certainty of a man who’d just spent eighteen hours on a plane flying across an ocean on the strength of his dreams, that he was to blame. He’d walked away because he had no place in her life, because he’d been so certain that it was futile for him to try to make one. And every scratch, every discoloration, every tense and painful moment he wanted to absorb, so she didn’t have to anymore.

He steeled himself for what was to come.

*************************

Buffy walked into her living room and stopped abruptly, arms still wrapped around herself. Not for comfort, no, never that. She wrapped her arms so Giles wouldn’t see the tremors that raced up and down her nerves, so he wouldn’t see that she was nearly frantic. The surprise of his appearance had stopped them from shaking for a second, but the shakes were back, stronger now because she wasn’t out there, fighting or killing or fucking something.

But she also stopped, arms still wrapped tightly, because his very presence drew her. It always had, and she’d always locked up the feelings, the thoughts, locked them tight and hard because she knew it wasn’t what he saw in her. Now her arms would betray her in more ways than one. The look, the look she’d seen him give her when she opened the door, made her shiver with need. Her betraying arms wanted to grab him and hold him as tight as she could, surround herself with him and his hope and his love and for once have the shaking cease.

Her constant sorrow became a desperate kind of rage. What have I become that I need him so much? He says nothing, but somehow it seems like everything. How dare he? Leave me… when I need him most, leave me to become this, then come back? How dare he do this to me?

She found she was saying it out loud; facing his now unreadable eyes with her own betraying arms still wrapped tight, “How dare you Giles? If you’re back for me, why the fuck did you leave me behind in the first place?”

She watched as he began to say something, something defensive and protective and something she’d heard a thousand times before about how she needed to stand on her own and the need to leave her alone to do so. But then, as if he couldn’t tell the same lies to her again, his shoulders slumped. His head dropped, heavy on his chest. He looked towards her, and she was frightened at how naked his face was.

“I was wrong: blind and wrong.” He closed his eyes, as if he was trying to hold back tears. It made her heart clench again, “Buffy, there are no words to take back what I did. I was wrong to leave you: wrong to believe that you had to be alone. There are certain things I will spend a lifetime trying to atone for. I think leaving you may have been one of them. It is a betrayal that cannot be forgiven, yet I’m here to ask, to atone, to redeem, to beg you to forgive.” His eyes opened, and she was stunned at the regret that faced her.

His words began to sink in. In his long-winded convoluted, awkward way, he was trying to say he was sorry. For one brief second she felt his sorrow – she felt his sorrow and his ache, and they felt like the things she’d carried in her veins for months. A sullen kinship of pain.

But she couldn’t forgive. Not just like that. He’d helped to make her what she was, standing before him like a junky waiting for a fix. Slayer, indeed. And suddenly she was blindly angry, hurting, waiting to hurt.

“What do you want from me, Giles? Do you want me to tell you that you’re forgiven now? Is that what you’re here for? Because I can’t do it. I can’t tell you everything’s ok. You can’t walk back in here and expect me to fall at your feet.”

As soon as they were out, she wanted to take the words back. But she couldn’t stop them. They poured out of her like little knives.

“You don’t get to do that, Giles. You don’t get to come back here and tell me that you’re gonna make everything better. You can’t. You told me I had to live a life that doesn’t involve you, remember? There are some things sorry doesn’t – can’t – fix. And I’m one of them. You’re too late to come back here and fix me. You’re wasting your time. I hunt, I keep the vamps down, I do my job and hold it together. You can take your sorry and leave me the fuck alone.”

Giles moved towards her and she fought to stay angry against the look in his eyes. He looked like he knew, like he knew what she’d done. But he couldn’t know. If he knew how wrong things had gone, he wouldn’t be here, trying to apologize to her. She closed her eyes at the look on his face, willing her body to stand for just a few seconds longer. If she could just make it for a couple of seconds longer she could throw him out and get out into the night. She sucked in a shaky breath, trying so hard just to stand her ground.

His voice broke her, made her eyes fly open, “Buffy, I know.”

She looked at him, curiosity getting the best of her. He couldn’t really. He spoke again, his voice low and hoarse, his body canted towards her in a silent plea.

“I know. I know about the tremors. You think you hide it well but I know.” She gasped, and fear raced through her. How could he know? Dawn didn’t even know. He went on, “I know about Spike, too.” His voice roughened on the name. She had no words left to answer him. He didn’t seem to need them as his voice kept going, inexorably, driving deep into her.

“I know what you do at night. I know exactly what calls to you out of the shadows. I know you can feel the vampires crawling over Sunnydale, and they make your skin itch, like an invisible rash of malice festering on your body. I know that your arms shake when you’re not fighting, as if your body can’t come down, as if you long to fight even when you’re sleeping. As if the only time you’re real is when you’re slamming a stake into a vampire’s chest. But you’re tired, so terribly tired. Every day seems like a greater weariness, every color dulled and every sound dimmed. Until you fight again. Oh, yes, I know.”

His words were a spell, and she felt caught, the moment separating out into endless shards of sound as he went on. She didn’t want to hear, yet every fiber of her body strained toward the half-whispered words.

“I know what Spike does to you in the night, Buffy. I know he holds you down, he makes the world burn bright, and for a few petty minutes, a few gasped seconds, you feel real again. His body moves under you and you find you can breathe. He slams you into a wall and suddenly the tremors stop and you’ve got control. He comes perilously close to biting you and you bare your neck, taunting him, wanting him, soundlessly hoping this time he’ll take you up on the offer and drain you till you find oblivion, because you know it will feel that good. I know you’re looking for him at the end of the night.”

She felt naked before him. His eyes bore into hers, and he stepped closer to grab her wrist and pull one of her betraying arms away from her body. He held her, just her wrist and hand, and together they stared down at it like it was some strange artifact, some weird demon they had to capture. Her hand began to twitch of its own accord. She tried to clench her fist, tried to stop the tremor from showing so plainly, making it impossible to deny anything he’d said, but, as her fingers closed, his grip slid from her wrist to her hand, holding tight against her twitch.

“Buffy, I know.”

He could see it. He could see what was wrong and he wasn’t . . . he wasn’t pushing her away. Something broke inside of her. She looked up at him, feeling the tears begin to silently fall down her face.

“Giles . . .” she could barely form words, they came out hushed, broken, whispered between them, “Giles . . . help me.”

*************************

In that moment – the moment she looked at him with trust and naked despair – he did the only thing he could. Thought left, instinct remained. His grip moved, drawing her in.

He clenched her upper arms in his hands, drawing her forward with fast pressure. He put his lips against hers and gasped as the current ran through him – through them both. Lips slammed against lips, pain transmuted by contact, his fingers digging into her arms. It all twisted – the room, the feel of her skin, the taste of her mouth – as she opened to him and he opened to her, something fierce and needy clearing the way for them both. She seemed to struggle under his hands, trying to move closer, trying to press harder into him. He shouldn’t have been able to hold her so tight, but need and pain and love gave him strength. The burning fire of their mouths ratcheted hotter, wet and hard and drawing no quarter, holding nothing back, no surprise to either of them, not really. Not when all the shouting and all the curses seemed to lead to this: bodies aching and full with rushing blood, focus narrowed to the smallest of movements, every twist of tongue and press of teeth making them gasp and huff. Neither would back down, either would let go, heartbeats fast and hard and rushed, beating in furious syncopation. He kissed her with his soul bound up in every moment of his lips and tongue.

In the midst of this burning onslaught, he felt Buffy trembling beneath him. . . trembling and suddenly straining in his arms. She was trying to crush close, but he held her so her mouth, his mouth, their kiss, remained the only focus for her throbbing need. He felt himself divide, half wanting – desperate crazed need – half controlled, every fiber of his body consumed by the woman who met his lips with such boundless passion.

Still, he knew it had to stop; he couldn’t take her lust and be greedy with it, throw everything away and take her now, on the floor. He tore his lips from hers, body screaming in protest, to look at her.

She growled as he broke contact with her lips.

It was a complicated desire, this longing for her, this need, and he held it at bay with a wrenching pain that silently answered her protesting growl. Need was his purpose, but not this uncontrolled thing. Not now, not here, not this way. She opened her eyes to stare at him, fury and frustration writ plain.

“Why, exactly did you do that?” She ground the words out, slowly, carefully, barely controlled, but controlled nonetheless, “And why, exactly, did you stop?”

“Look at your hands.” His terse reply brought her up short. She turned her hands, palms up, and raised them between them.

“It’s stopped.” It seemed the obvious was occasionally worth repeating. “It’s stopped.” She looked at him with wonder. “How ... nothing, not even Spike made it stop completely.”

He nodded at her implied question, relief warring with giddy fear. He’d sat in his bed in England, so certain, so resolute. Across an ocean, assured, but nothing had prepared him for this, not even surety. Seeing her so destroyed had tested his faith in dreams and portent and certainty. But it seemed, again, that late night imaginings were right. He grabbed one steadfast hand and pulled her to the couch, unwilling and unable to let go.

“I had a dream.”

~ the end ~

updated Attack

2005-04-18T15:59:00.000-07:00

I know, I don't write new smut anymore. *sigh* But I did finally officially get Attack of the Ipos so it appears now in it's final version. There aren't that many changes, but hopefully it reads a little better now. I'm just glad to be well and truly done with it.

high praise, indeed

2005-01-23T13:36:00.000-08:00

FRIEND: By the way, did I ever tell you I liked your Buffy/Giles chocolate demon erotica?

FRIEND: Very sexy and well-written.

smut writer: thank you!! hee - you read it. i think you're the only one of my friends (who isn't a fic writer) who's read it! *does happy dance of joy now*

FRIEND: I still think the genre's pretty silly. I think it's saying something when you can make a genre I find silly interesting to read... and erotic.

smut writer: i take it as a huge compliment that you actually felt like reading the entire thing. and the erotic part *bows head* thank you. but i happen to think the nice thing about reading erotica (instead of watching it) is that, no matter who the subjects are, you can still have appearances fall away, and if the material's sexy, it's sexy.... and the genre is silly! that's the point

FRIEND: Yeah, but silly things don't usually give me chub.

(reposed with permission from 'friend'. makes me want to write more smut. hopefully some will be forthcoming soon)

i don't know if this rightly goes here, but

2005-01-07T16:21:00.000-08:00

This is an index of all of the LJ Icons I've created in the past couple of months. There seem to be quite a few. Some are horrible (sigh), but I'm getting better I think. If you're inclined, you may use them, just please please please let me know you are doing so. Otherwise, just go see what a person with 100 x 100 can do to make Buffy & Giles look like they're gonna kiss. Kate's Index of LJ Icons

couldn't resist this meme

2004-11-16T22:17:00.000-08:00

What kind of sex scene do you write?
brought to you by Quizilla

friday's dirty thought

2004-10-22T13:56:00.000-07:00

Damn it. I want to write porn. Hot, sweaty, meaty, man-on-man, bondage porn. But, instead, i have to work. Damn it. And I was inspired to start from the same place one of my favorite authors did, but do it without the emotional crap. Because, even though I love her writing, this time it made me loose my hot and horny - too emotional. Oh, I know, a number of people consider BSDM as some kind of alternative therapy. But damn it, sometimes sex is just sex. Squishy, terrifying, exhilarating, raunchy, joyous and fucking fantastic -- but just fucking sex.

Attack of the Ipos

2004-08-22T02:41:00.000-07:00

Title: Attack of the Ipos
Author: katekat
Date: August 2004
Pairing: B/G
Rating: NC-17
Summary/Timeline: Summer between Season 4 & 5. A rogue demon with special powers prompts Buffy/Giles goodness. Written as a present to Gileswench for the All the Jellies Buffy/Giles Smutficathon.
Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. Plot lines aren’t even really mine; they’re just beamed to me via satellite. All hail the mighty and benevolent Joss for making it all possible.
Distribution: All the Jellies, BuffyGiles/Efiction, ODD. If you’d like to archive elsewhere, simply ask.
Feedback: Welcomed and appreciated.
Notes: Buffy and Riley have broken up, peaceably, and he’s back in Iowa. Although the demonology texts and demon mentioned in this fic are ‘real’ and came from the following: www.deliriumsrealm.com/delirium/mythology (for which I tender many thanks) I have rearranged the existing knowledge for my own purposes. [Thoughts] *Emphasis*
Thanks: Linda & BJ, my understanding and magnificent betas, this fic wouldn’t be fic without your help. All corrections are theirs, all remaining mistakes are mine. Elizabuffy, thanks for the tweed. Neil, thank you for helping me through the icky parts. The absurd ideas wouldn’t be very absurd at all without you. Gileswench, your challenge was definitely interesting, and I hope I loved up to the intent (if not all of the requirements).

*******************************

Buffy stood at Giles’ doorstep and knocked. She hoped he wouldn’t mind that she wanted to get clean at his place. After all, he did have hardwood floors and they would wash so much easier than her mom’s wall-to-wall carpeting. There was the added bonus that he might actually know what that demon was. She heard him step close to the door and realized he must be checking the spy hole.

Normally she had no problem walking through his door unannounced - it was just that she didn’t want to get sticky goo on anything else. It was going to be hard enough to get the stuff out of her clothes and off of her skin.

Apparently he figured there was only one person who’d show up on his doorstep covered head to toe in gunk, because the door opened. He looked at her, worried expression drawing his loveable features together. [And just when did his features become loveable?]

“Buffy? Is everything all right? Are you hurt? What did this?” he asked.

Her eyes peeped out from her brown-covered face and she said in a disgusted voice, “Don’t worry, Giles, I’m fine. Just please tell me you know what kind of demon spews chocolate sauce at its attackers?”

Giles was momentarily speechless. He blinked at her, trying to process what she’d said. Her phrase finally sank in and the worry lines dissolved as he began to laugh.

“Buffy,” he snickered, “do you mean to tell me a demon covered you in chocolate sauce?” Even covered in sticky chocolate and totally annoyed at how uncomfortable it was, Buffy saw the absurdity and giggled with him. Then her laugh turned mischievous.

Her fingers swept across the skin above her tank top, leaving a line of slightly cleaner skin as she gathered chocolate. She held her covered fingers up to her Watcher.

“Well, that’s what it tastes like to me. I must’ve inhaled a gallon of it.” She had no idea what prompted her to tease him, but her stomach thrilled when offered up her fingers and asked, “But don’t trust me, why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Instead of being flustered, or cautious, Giles’ laugh became a twinkle in his eye as he leaned toward her fingers and delicately sniffed. It seemed he liked what he found, because suddenly his lips covered her fingers and his soft tongue licked the chocolate sauce off. She was shocked at the heat of his mouth, and nearly gasped out loud when she felt his teeth barely graze her skin.

Before she could react to the feel of his lips or tongue, he’d stopped. He looked at her with a thoughtful expression, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Well, I won’t deny it certainly tastes like chocolate.”

She stared at him, grinning like a fool. The touch of his lips had disconnected her ability to think. She wanted to ask him where he got off licking her, but couldn’t muster the will. His lips were like the softest sin. Her brain hazed out with the thought that she was now covered in chocolate . . . and those lips could be . . . anywhere. . .

Giles took in her dazed expression with an arched eyebrow and asked, as if he’d done nothing unusual. “Are you sure a demon covered you in this?”

Drawn away from the amazingly sexy mental image, Buffy tilted her head to the side in disgust. “No, Giles, this is just a new exotic spa treatment,” she replied. “I have to leave it on for 24 hours so it deep conditions my skin. Duh! Of course a demon covered me in this! The weirdest looking thing practically barfed this stuff all over me. Kind of a cross between a goose and a lion. There I was, just trying to do my job and protect the helpless. When I asked the demon what it was doing in front of a row of houses it sprayed me with the latest in demony excretions. Hey, stop giggling!”

Giles had begun to laugh again at the absurdity of the story.

“It’s really not funny Giles!” But she couldn’t help smiling herself. It was just too goofy. “You know, shouldn’t we be worried instead of laughing? After all, we both just ate demon spew.”

“Well, it did taste remarkably like Hershey’s chocolate sauce.” He tried to suppress his giggles, and looked contrite. “I’m sorry Buffy. I didn’t mean to laugh at you, it’s just . . . I’ve never heard of anything like this. But you’re probably terribly uncomfortable. Do you want to come in and clean up?”

Buffy sighed in relief. “Finally! That’s exactly what I was looking for. You know, I have no idea why people think this kind of thing is sexy. I feel like I’m just attracting flies.” She followed him into the house, making a beeline for the bathroom leaving little chocolate footprints in her wake.

Giles smiled a little at this. “Somehow, I think chocolate is usually used in moderation.”

She turned as she stood in the bathroom doorway. “Oh yeah? And how would you know, Mr. Smarty-Pants? Ever eaten chocolate off anybody?”

He turned beet red, but responded, “Yes, as a matter of fact I have.” Buffy was intrigued and opened her mouth to ask him for details. Giles caught the look, and squelched her question. “You’d best take that shower, otherwise we’ll have to peel your clothes off of you and unstick you from the floor.”

She shivered at the mental image of Giles taking off her clothes. Then she grinned and good naturedly replied, “I’m going! I’m going!”

*******************************

Once inside his bathroom, Buffy turned the water on as high as it would go, then realized that her clothes really had dried and stuck to her skin.

[Ugh. This is so gross. I can’t believe I have a ruined outfit and nothing to show for it.] She sighed, then hopped into the shower fully dressed. She began to peel layers off as the water loosened the chocolate. [Double ugh. Okay, never using melted chocolate again. Although . . .] she reflected on her Watcher’s lips against her skin as he’d tasted the chocolate. [Well, maybe not never.]

She smiled at the thought of Giles on the other side of the door. Lately she’d started actually hanging out with her Watcher after patrol. It was sweet. Giles made her tea and they talked, but he never started the kettle unless he knew she was there. And since she didn’t have classes, she stayed as long as she liked.

It had all started after the dream with the First Slayer. The dream had freaked them all out a little bit, her more than everyone else. She needed to have a couple of long conversations with Giles about what everything meant. He was, after all, the official dream interpreter as her Watcher. Dreams figured so large in her life, and she just couldn’t shake some of the things that had come up.

But those dream discussions had led to just plain old talking. And after she and Riley broke up, the talking included all kinds of things. Funny, because she’d never thought of Giles as a talker in high school. Maybe it was something about the middle of the night – nighttime brought a feeling of closeness. She finally got to satisfy her curiosity about him. She realized with surprise that he’d told her more about himself in the last month and a half than in the last three years altogether.

She shook her head, wondering what had prompted her to offer him her fingers. And what had motivated him to accept her offer? She shivered, remembering the feel of his sinful mouth on her skin. [What am I doing thinking about Giles’ mouth? I can’t think about his mouth. . .but. . . it’s yummy.]

She shook herself out of her naughty thoughts and heard Giles clean up the spots she’d left walking down his hallway. He leaned against the other side of the bathroom door.

“Buffy? Do you want to describe this demon so I can begin research?”

Buffy was disgusted – he didn’t give her a moment of peace, did he? “Giles, don’t you think you could hold off on the research until I get clean?”

“Well,” she could her his snigger through the door as he continued, “it might spray someone else. We can’t just have it running around Sunnydale covering people in chocolate, now can we? Besides, although it did taste exactly like chocolate sauce, I would like to confirm as soon as possible that we both ingested something fairly harmless. I don’t think it’s done you any harm, and I don’t seem to be suffering any ill effects, but better to be safe than sorry, don’t you think?”

Buffy smiled at the doorframe, imagining her Watcher on the other side trying to contain his laughter. “Very funny, Giles. You know I can hear you laughing. You’re gonna pay for every giggle I hear. Either that or you’re going to have to face the demon yourself the next time it comes around. But I’ll take pity on you and tell you, since you did take a taste without consulting your books first. I must be rubbing off on you. Just promise me, no more giggling!”

“I’ll try and restrain myself,” he mocked from the other side of the door. “Now, please, tell me what happened?”

She began to describe her evening while the water sluiced down.

*******************************

Giles listened to his Slayer’s tale of a quiet night, two vamps dusted, and her encounter with the strange goose-lion demon, but his attention wandered to the slight splashing sounds coming from behind the door.

He had no idea what impulse he’d obeyed in sucking the chocolate off of his Slayer’s fingers, but he was pleased with the results. Buffy had looked stunned, but the kind of stunned he loved seeing on a woman’s face. The kind that begs to be kissed away. He was filled with a wild hope and it made him giddy. Maybe he would face the demon next time it came around, and ask her to lick the chocolate off of him. [Dirty man! You’re not supposed to be thinking about her that way! But I can’t help it.] He yanked his attention away from daydreams of his Slayer’s tongue to listen to her story.

“It looked like someone snagged a lion and shoved a goose head and feet onto it. Its front paws were webbed and clawed at the same time. Pretty fierce claws, actually.”

Giles listened close enough to be surprised by her description, then she made another splashing sound and his incorrigible imagination conjured up luscious images of his Slayer under water, with chocolate and soap mixing together in his mind’s eye to form the most distracting picture.

He marveled at the woman on the other side of the door, wishing again he could tell her how much he wanted her. They’d been spending so much time together lately, and for months she’d seemed interested in more than just her destiny and slaying. A faint hope had begun to grown in his heart that she might actually consider him more than a friend. He cherished their late night conversations, particularly as she seemed to really want to learn about him. For the first time he began to think she might actually see him as a man.

The sound of another splash crept under the door, and although he tried to shake the naughty images, they just kept coming. He knew he shouldn’t be fantasizing about her, particularly when she was so close, but couldn’t help it.

He realized she’d paused, expecting an answer from him. He coughed at the constriction of his throat, his mouth completely dry.

“I’m sorry Buffy, what did you just say?”

“I swear Giles, if you’re still out there laughing at me, I’m going to throw you in the path of that demon myself. I said that my Slayer sense kicked into overdrive from, like, 15 feet away. I figure it must be super-evil to make the hairs on my neck stand up that much, right?”

“You’re probably right Buffy. Could you tell what it was searching for?”

The sound of wet cloth being wrung out made Giles suddenly envious of a washcloth, and rendered him completely rigid at the fresh burst of mental images.

“No, I couldn’t. That’s what I was trying to tell you. The thing looked like it was just wandering up and down the street, but when I asked it politely what it was doing it totally belched all over me and ran the other direction faster than I could chase it. I checked the neighborhood but no one seemed to be missing a demon. Most of the houses were completely dark, like everyone was asleep. Any idea why a demon would just be wandering around?”

“None immediately come to mind. However, I believe your demon is distinctive enough that we ought to be able to find it quickly. Then we’ll see what we’re dealing with. Perhaps that will provide a clue or two.”

“That’s *my* Giles.” Giles grinned at Buffy’s possessive endearment. “Always helpful with the research.” The shower shut off, and Buffy asked, “Now I have another question for you . . . can I borrow your robe?”

Giles’ heart almost stopped at the request. All that lovely Buffy bundled into his terrycloth robe. He barely restrained himself from breaking down the door.

“Of course, Buffy. How silly of me. Please help yourself. It’s hanging on the back of the door. If you like we can wash your clothes here before you go home.”

“So now my Watcher does laundry too? I should stop here after being covered in demon goo more often. You’re way more fun than home. Mom always nags about the stains.”

“You know you’re always welcome Buffy. But I only do laundry if you and your clothes are covered in chocolate.”

“Is that some kind of a rule?”

“I might consider making it one,” he joked. “Do go on with your story, though. How did you figure out it was chocolate?” Giles asked, wondering if he was going to be able to string a coherent thought together once Buffy emerged. Just the thought of her on the other side of the door was rendering him practically speechless. What was he going to when she walked out in his robe?

*******************************

“I can’t believe it actually sprayed me. And that I was silly enough to get a mouthful. I should know better than that by now. But then I actually tasted it, and when I figured out the ugly whackjob had covered me in chocolate syrup I decided yours was the shower I needed to sully.” Buffy continued as she toweled off.

She walked out of the shower, robe belted tight, and found Giles still leaning against the bathroom door. Drops of water curled along the side of her neck, her hair curled in a loose bun above it. She glowed, the soft light from the bathroom making her features soft and beguiling. He took one look at her and knew he was completely lost.

She stopped mid-stride at his look. He wore an inscrutable expression, but something in his eyes drew her in, preventing her questions and making her lean towards him. She tilted her chin, wondering at the way he seemed to be looking at her lips. He stood so close she could feel the heat from his body through the robe. He ducked his head, and she realized that he was going to kiss her. The crazy thing was that she wanted him to.

His lips were soft and velvety as they tentatively touched hers. Her eyes got even wider as she looked at his lashes against his cheeks. She arched forward, into his lips, deepening their first kiss, realizing she wanted to taste more of him.

He leaned into her body, pushing her against the wall of the hallway. His hands framed her face as her mouth opened beneath him. His fingers fanned along her skin, holding her motionless, in a grip that somehow conveyed that he was coiled like a spring. The tension of his body’s heat raced through her veins, spreading warmth everywhere. His tongue drove deeper, twining with hers, and she gasped into his mouth. His blunt teeth bit at her lower lip, sucking it into his mouth so he could nibble further. Her knees weakened, and she might’ve slid down the wall without the crushing support of his body holding her up. She wanted to fall, and have him catch her. Instead she broke their kiss, gasping for breath.

“Giles?” She tried to form other words. She tried to ask the questions she knew she should. Questions about timing and want and boundaries. But nothing else came to her, nothing but his name and the intense need he’d sparked in her.

He blinked, as if her voice made him wake from a dream, and dropped his hands. He started to back away from her, stuttering, “B-b-buffy, I-I, I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry.”

Buffy was in momentary shock, but just for a second. There was no way she was letting those fantastic lips get away from her. No way. She ignored the little voice in her head that said all her relationships turned out bad, and that one with her Watcher could be a train wreck. She shook her head, negating more than just his apology, and pulled his retreating body back against hers.

“Oh, no you don’t mister, don’t you dare back away from me. Come here and finish what you started.”

Giles let himself be pulled back into her body, his face clearing as he realized she wasn’t angry with the liberties he’d taken. He moved to hold her face between his hands as he smiled a blinding smile, then leaned to kiss her again.

At the second touch of his lips to hers, all doubt between them evaporated. Giles gave up any pretense at apology and his boldness shocked her. Buffy’s concerns melted under the onslaught of his lips. His touch stunned her. His fingers traced her jaw line as he continued to feast on her. She melted, both at the touch and the feel of his fiery mouth. There was something dark and hot about the way his body pressed hers against the wall. She could feel the hard length of his cock between their bodies, and it made her ache with need.

Giles broke their kiss this time, breathing heavily. He dropped his head to her shoulder, pulling her closer against him.

Suddenly daring, Buffy tugged at his sweater, pulling it up, over and tossing it away. Her hands shaped the muscles in his neck and shoulders, fingers digging into his skin before smoothing down his chest. Her fingertips grazed his nipples and she smiled as she heard him suck in air. The sound of his reaction fired her, and she pulled his head back down to hers again, marveling at his taste. She had only one thought. [Yummy.]

His hands, courageous now, pushed her robe open and began to stroke the heated skin beneath. She moaned into his mouth, surprised at the rough texture of his finger pads against her breasts. She closed her eyes as his passionate hands played over her body, stroking her hips, lingering along the undersides of her breasts, urging her closer and closer to his heat. His skin felt so good pressed against hers, his chest hair pricking and teasing against her nipples.

She unbuttoned the top of his pants. She muttered into his chest. “No reason I should have to be the only one who’s naked.”

Giles laughed and proceeded to kiss her so hard she nearly forgot how to unbutton buttons. Finally, his pants and underwear were shoved away to reveal silky, warm Watcher skin, lots of it. She let him drop the robe from her shoulders, kissing as they went. Finally they cradled each other, feeding off kisses and moans and sighs.

His deft fingers made their way between her legs as hers softly wrapped around his cock. Twin moans broke from between their lips as they panted against each other, eyes closed, delighting in touching and being touched. Giles leaned Buffy against the wall, moving to stand between her legs. She pulled him as close as she dared, trying to meld his skin to hers. She tilted her hips, pulsing with heat, trying to rub against his fingers and his cock at the same time. One hand buried itself in his hair, keeping him kissing and growling beneath her lips. But the friction wasn’t enough.

At her unspoken urging, he picked her up and drove himself inside her. She cried out, one joyous clarion call of, “Giles!” and sank down until she’d taken him completely in. She held his shoulders in a crushing grip, wanting to stay there forever, wrapped tightly in his arms, utterly filled.

Giles was caught immobile in her delightful warmth. He didn’t want to move, but her hips began to curve slowly, and he couldn’t help but respond. He gently arched in and out of her body, holding her to the wall, kissing her neck and eyelids. He captured her lips with his own until he needed air again.

What started as slow, gentle movement soon escalated, burning hotter and hotter until the noise of their thrusting made slapping sounds against the wall. Buffy crushed Giles to her, whimpering as he began to truly pound into her, harder and deeper. With every thrust she came closer, until her orgasm burst over her and sizzled down her nerve endings. She broke from his lips to yell her joy and felt him begin to shudder as he moved beneath her. With a matching shout, “Buffy!” he drove up one final time and held himself rigid as he came.

As both panted their delight, Giles held her as if he thought she was going to break. At least he tried, until it became uncomfortable to try to keep her against the wall. With a laugh Buffy unclasped her arms from his shoulders. “Giles, it’s okay. You can let me go.”

“I’m not sure that I want to,” he replied, although he did set her down. His hands possessively cradled her to him.

She looked into his eyes, the words practically speaking themselves. “I don’t think you’re ever going to be able to get rid of me. Not now. Not after that.” As soon as they were out of her mouth she knew they were true.

Giles smiled a lovely, heart-stopping smile. “Good.”

Buffy laughed at his satisfied tone. “Although, it is getting a little cold. . . “

Giles instantly leaned over to grab the discarded robe. He draped it around her shoulders. “There is this big thing upstairs I believe you Americans call a bed. It has covers, and is rumored to be quite warm.”

Buffy giggled, snuggling into the robe, then curled back against the body of her still-naked Watcher. “Giles, are you trying to get me into your bed?”

He smiled back at her. “I am. There’s no better way I can ensure you’ll still be here in the morning.”

She positively glowed at his invitation. Buffy had no idea where her Watcher’s sudden boldness had come from, or why the sudden wonderful sex, for that matter, but she loved it. The last thing on her mind was leaving.

“I’ll think about it. But I’d be more tempted if you offered breakfast.”

“My dear, I can offer you far more than just breakfast.”

“What did you have in mind?”

His green eyes teased her with wicked promises. “You’ll just have to wait until morning to find out.”

She laughed again. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.” They started upstairs hand in hand.

Buffy was startled at the bubbling happiness in her heart. She’d known for months that there was something happening between them, but she hadn’t expected anything like this. It made her grin and feel like she was glowing at the same time.

As they reached the bedroom, Buffy stopped. “Giles, what about my icky demon? Shouldn’t we be researching it or something?”

He gravely considered her question, although it seemed he couldn’t help pulling her back into his arms to do so. “I’d suggest research tomorrow, and a hunt for it tomorrow night. I don’t think having a few people covered in chocolate is going to do them any permanent damage. And we’ll need to find out what it is and what it wants before you can go after it.”

Buffy nodded. “Sounds like a good idea. We’ll call the Scoobies in the morning and get them to help.” She began to yawn.

“Come on, Miss Summers. Your bed awaits.” Giles drew the robe off her shoulders and pulled the coverlet back from the bed. Buffy scrambled in and watched her Watcher slide next to her. He turned to her, pulling her tight against him, his legs twining with hers as he pulled the covers around them both. As he drew her into the crook of his arm, his fingers began to thread their way through her hair in a lazy rhythm. She sighed a sleepy sigh against his chest, one hand over his heartbeat.

Once they’d settled, Buffy ventured, “Giles? Should we . . . talk about this? About what just happened?”

Giles, realizing that he felt remarkably happy and doubt free, responded, “We can if you like. Or we can talk in the morning. I’m not going anywhere.” His arms tightened around her. “And neither are you.”

Buffy realized that, for once, she really didn’t have a need to discuss, to analyze, or to figure out. She was happy, and she could tell Giles was, too. She tightened her arms around him and laid her head against his shoulder. “Good. No talking now, just cuddling. Serious talk can wait for the morning.”

“Indeed.” Giles replied. He kissed her head and gently whispered, “Sweet dreams, Buffy Summers.”

She smiled into his chest at the sound of her name. He made it sound like an endearment. “Sweet dreams, Rupert Giles.”

*******************************

Giles cradled her as her breathing changed and her body turned heavy with sleep, and tried not to sing with joy at the feel of her in his arms. He marveled at the weight of her, at the reality, the staggering reality of her presence in his bed, with him. She’d even said she wanted to be with him. More than that – lord, he’d often been amused or cocky when complimented on his prowess, but never had anyone he’d wanted this much told him they might not ever let him go.

Gods, he wanted to believe that wasn’t simply afterglow. Buffy seldom made statements unless she meant them, and when she’d said it he’d been so satisfied, so blissfully satisfied, that all fear and doubt had been banished from his mind. He’d blithely reassured her, he’d merrily offered her his bed, and he’d neatly sidestepped the fact that, now that she was in it, he’d truly given her his heart.

Now though, questions came running back, forestalling sleep. He didn’t know quite what to do from here, and he tried not to let his mental shiver of fear turn into a physical one. What had ever prompted him to believe he could kiss her? What had prompted her to kiss him back?

More importantly, would she want to be with him in the morning? Would she want to be with him tomorrow? Should he tell her how he felt, or try not to scare her away with it all at once?

One thing made all the clamoring questions quiet, one thing that overrode all attempts at fear and dismay; Buffy was asleep in his arms. He decided to take his own advice: tomorrow was time enough to sort everything else out.

*******************************

Buffy felt Giles cuddle against her back. His arm reached over her hips to stroke between her legs, fingers lazily drawing the heat. Wet warmth gathered and she tilted her hips against his circling touch. As she drowsily began to shift closer to his body, his lips closed on her neck and he spread lazy nibbles across her shoulders. She squirmed against him as his fingers moved harder and faster in her. She felt him smile against her neck, then open his mouth to bite down hard against the muscles beneath his lips. She let out a mewl that turned into a groan, knowing she'd be marked but caring little.

It was lovely to wake up like this – cradled in Giles’ arms, his hot skin against hers, body humming with warmth. His hips arched behind hers, his knee moving between hers to toss her leg back. Buffy’s body lengthened against his, his fingers pushing deeper into her as she felt his cock, hard and wanting, behind her. She arched her hips back, shifting, hoping he'd realize she wanted more than his driving fingers.

All their movements were unhurried – just long and warm and lusty. She felt her own juices begin to wet the sheets as she moved. She began to moan, softly, as his hips shifted to move further between her legs. His cock slipped up her vulva, its tip stroking towards his fingers at her clit. Wanting, she didn't hesitate to move her hips just enough to sheath him inside her, and he bucked against her with a growl to bury himself to the hilt. His other arm slid up between her hips and the mattress, to splay around her belly, holding her tight as he moved in her.

Buffy closed her eyes and melted in his embrace, feeling her entire body surge in time with his. Every nerve tingled and tightened as Giles continued to thrust, over and over. Her body bucked of its own accord. She flexed her vaginal walls around his cock and he panted against her neck as his arms clasped her, his movements unhurried and powerful. She loved his heat, his passion, the feeling of being his, the feeling of his cock inside her and his hands at her clit. His fingers stroked a final time and her head bent backwards as she came. He growled behind her as she gasped out her orgasm. He pushed into her harder than he had before, once twice, and again, until she felt his cock stiffen and lengthen, and then burst inside her. His fingers remained between her legs, his body relaxed behind her, as they both shuddered with the aftermath of orgasm.

After a few minutes Buffy sighed, not wanting to move but knowing they had to wake and greet the day. Giles caught the sigh. He chuckled, and propped his head on one hand so he could look at her. Smiling, he moved her hair away from the side of her face to kiss her cheek. “Good morning, love.”

Buffy’s breath caught at the endearment, and her smile lit the room. “Hiya, you.” She reached up to touch his lips with her fingers, still not quite believing he was real. He nibbled her fingertips, reminding her of the first time he did that last night, making her fingers tingle and her grin grow even wider.

“Like your morning surprise so far?” he asked, in a spine-tingling low voice.

She nodded, speechless. Before she could begin to form a more coherent thought her stomach growled, loudly. Giles stopped nibbling to look at the offending organ, then he leaned forward to kiss the smooth skin above her tummy.

“I suppose that must be your body’s way of telling me you’d like breakfast?” he asked, looking up from his spot near her stomach.

Buffy stroked his cheek. “Well . . . maybe. You did promise me, you know.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” With an enigmatic smile her Watcher stood up from the bed, grabbed some sweats out of a drawer and tugged them on. Buffy leaned up on her elbow to watch him dress. She’d always known he had lovely lines, but seeing him in the morning light and watching him simply put on a pair of pants was utterly distracting.

“What am I getting for breakfast?” she asked when he turned around to find her openly admiring him.

“Keep looking at me like that and you may not get any at all,” he teased. She pouted a little, and he laughed at her expression and walked back over to the bed to kneel beside it. “Will eggs, toast and coffee do? If not I can run out for doughnuts.”

Buffy’s expression turned from pouting to eager, and she practically pushed him towards the kitchen. “You spoke the magic word, coffee. Go now, coffee maker! Coffee is a must!”

Giles only laughed again, kissed her softly on the lips, and walked downstairs.

*******************************

Giles hummed to himself in pleasure as he reached the kitchen. The first order of business was coffee, the second, a lovely breakfast for his most precious houseguest. He marveled at the simple joy of waking with her in his arms, then grinned at the memory of their morning so far. [I may not be such an old man after all.]

He collected things from the cupboards, set about heating water for tea and the French press, and was suddenly struck with shock. Buffy was upstairs in his bed. Oh, he knew this, knew it deep in his bones, but even last night it hadn’t seemed . . . real. Through some strange miracle, he’d actually acted on his thoughts instead of just thinking them. Now, Buffy was in his bed. And he never wanted her to leave.

He frowned as he cracked eggs into a pan, wondering if this was something they could possibly take slow. She was the most precious person in his life, and he couldn’t bear to lose her. He didn’t want to rush her into anything. But he wanted this so badly. He wanted to love her the way he’d always dreamed. He wanted to go on loving her like he had this morning. If she got scared, if she backed off from him, he wouldn’t be able to stand the loss.

He shook himself out of his moody thoughts. Buffy was still in his bed, wasn’t she? And hadn’t she said last night that she wouldn’t be able to leave him? He simply needed to make sure she’d meant what she’d said, and take it one day at a time.

He put the eggs next to the toast on their plates, set them next to the tableware he’d laid out on the bar. He didn’t need to plan their lives together, and he needed to stop believing she would run away from him at the first opportunity. He needed to learn to take this as it came.

*******************************

Buffy lay back on the bed and hugged the sheets to her. They were filled with wonderful Gilesy smells, and the scent of their morning activities. She felt warm and contented. She sighed, realizing that she’d have to leave the lovely nest. But maybe Giles would let her come back here? She didn’t want to think further than breakfast, but couldn’t help herself. She thought about the way he’d woken her up this morning and couldn’t help but want to be in his arms tomorrow . . . and the next day . . . and the next . . . scratch that, she never wanted to leave. Her heart kept hammering out this silly little tune that sounded suspiciously like ‘forever’. Her body was humming a low song of contentment, and she felt as if her smile warmed her inside and out.

Then the smell of coffee and toast rose up from the kitchen. She grabbed Giles’ robe to run downstairs. She found Giles putting down mugs next to full plates on the breakfast bar, walked close so she could kiss her half dressed Watcher again, and began to eat his breakfast.

They settled down in companionable silence, both pleased with the smell and feel of a more permanent domesticity. Finally though, Buffy looked across the counter at him and realized she was going to have to broach the subject. She took a deep breath, and when he heard her inhale he raised his eyes to hers.

“Giles, we should probably talk now. . .” she began.

He reached out to put one hand against her cheek. She leaned into his caress and covered his hand with her own.

“Buffy, before you begin, I would like to ask you a question. Did you enjoy last night? And this morning?”

She blushed, and then nodded, her eyes never leaving his.

“So did I. I didn’t plan last night, but I couldn’t be happier. I feel like I’ve just found you, and I don’t want to lose you. But. . .” he hesitated, looking away from her eyes and she wondered what exactly he was going to say. She couldn’t stop the chill that curdled her stomach when he stopped. Was he going to call it off? Tell her it was a mistake? [If he’s going to tell me never again, better get this over with] she thought.

She prompted, “But?”

He continued, “But . . . do we need to define this? Can’t we simply enjoy ourselves?”

Relief washed over her, and with her giddy feelings came right back, except now they were bigger and better than before. She felt like yelling to the mountain tops. Instead, she nodded again, almost shaking her head off her neck, and released a big whoosh of indrawn breath. “I don’t want to lose you either.” She smiled a silly smile at Giles. “What next?”

He squeezed her hands, “Perhaps, c-could we, take it one day at a time?”

“Taking it one day at a time is completely fine with me.” She hesitated, wondering if she should even try to show him how happy she was. But she couldn’t contain the forever feeling, “As long as the days start like this one did, I’m ready for millions of them.”

Giles smiled at her, his thumb softly stroking her cheek. “I wouldn’t mind millions of them either.” His hand dropped from her face and to grab hers and hold it.

Buffy asked the next question, the next logical question, because she knew it was going to come up sooner or later. “What do you want to say to our friends?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Anything you like.”

“Do we have to tell them anything?” Buffy said wistfully. “No,” she stopped herself. “We can’t do that. Willow will take one look at me and know something’s up.”

Giles sent her a questioning look. Buffy explained, “Willow has supernatural Buffy radar. She’ll see how happy I am. Heck, even the demons will probably notice.”

Giles grinned at that, then shrugged. “Buffy, these are our friends. Whatever we tell them, I believe they will be happy simply that we are happy.”

“You’re right. You know, I’m not gonna worry about it. They can figure us out for themselves. Just we did.” She smiled at him, all her present worries resolved.

*******************************

After breakfast Buffy went home to get a couple of changes of clothes and check in with her mom. Funny, Joyce hadn’t seemed to mind that Buffy had spent the night at Giles’. Buffy wondered about that as she tried to call her friends. She’d moved back home for the summer, but her mom wasn’t as psyched about having her semi-adult daughter back in the house. Maybe she’d find a way to spend more time out of the house this summer. Just thinking about Giles made her stomach flutter. And brought to mind their activities of the night, the morning, and his kiss goodbye. Her Watcher could kiss goodbye like nobody’s business. And he did say at breakfast that he wouldn’t mind having her there in the morning. That thought brought a secret smile to her lips.

Calls to the gang went unheeded for several hours, and it wasn’t until late afternoon that everyone gathered at Giles’ apartment. Willow and Tara arrived first. Buffy, Anya and Xander got there minutes later. Buffy explained about the strange demon and her encounter with it, and after the laughter had died down, she finished with, “And then I came back here to get cleaned up last night. Mom *so* would’ve had a hissy if I’d gotten chocolate all over the house, demon induced or not. So, research? First aim is to figure out what it is, then what it’s searching for. And no snickering or I’ll send you guys after it next time.” All four friends nodded, still trying to keep their smiles from turning into outright laughter. Of all the things they’d ever faced on the hellmouth, this seemed one of the goofiest.

Giles went to the bookshelf to pick out research books. Willow hopped online. Xander groaned when Giles passed him the _Dictionnaire Infernal_. He hated the thick book with crusty pages. Giles raised his eyebrow at him.

“Hey, I’m not really complaining, just groaning under the weight. But, you didn’t hand me the _Pseudomonarchia Daemonum_, so I’m happy. Make Tara read that one this time okay? The old English makes my head hurt.”

Tara affectionately smiled at him as she pulled the _Pseudomonarchia Daemonum_ text off the shelf. “Xander, how did you ever get mixed up all of this?”

“For my skills.” At Tara’s disbelieving laugh he continued, “Hey, you may not be able to depend on me for Old English reading, but you can’t do without my sterling charm and ability to order the best pizza in town,” Xander quipped back, then settled down to begin leafing through his book.

Tara giggled, settling on the couch with her own demonology text. Anya took one of the non-English language books from Giles’ pile and cuddled next to Xander. Without pausing in his book perusal, Xander put an arm around his girlfriend. The research party had begun.

Giles handed another book to Buffy and they both sat on the couch to read. Xander looked up and noticed Watcher and Slayer were practically sitting on top of each other. In fact, it looked almost like Buffy was cuddling into the side of her Watcher as she settled down. He blinked, wondering what had gotten into them, then went back to his book.

*******************************

As the sun began to set, Xander noticed Buffy pulling on her rattiest jacket and beginning to head for the door. “Hey Buffy, how come you get to leave?”

“I thought that was obvious . . .” she replied as she tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned back to him, “because I have to go make sure the icky duck-lion-thing doesn’t spray anyone else. Besides, haven’t you figured out how this relationship works yet, Xand? I’ll get covered in icky goo so you don’t have to.”

Her eyes flicked to Giles; Xander watched a secret little smile flicker over her features. He wondered why a demon spewing made Buffy happy. Made *both* Buffy and Giles happy.

“Well, thanks for the sacrifice Buffster.” Xander replied. His comeback went unnoticed. Buffy kept looking Giles’ way. She’d been keeping eye contact with her Watcher for a lot longer than her usual pre-patrol goodbye. And she was still smiling, although it had now turned into a silly sort of cute smile that Xander had only seen her wear when she was in the first stages of falling in love. He looked at Giles and discovered the Watcher was smiling, too.

Seconds passed, and still no eye contact breakage. Maybe there was something going on between them? [Huh], he thought, [Buffy and Giles together. That’s kind of cute. They could become the Watcher/Slayer dynamic duo. Better than Batman and Robin. Hopefully not with costumes. Or, well, costumes might not be so bad. Wait! Costumes? Bad Xander. No costumes!]

Finally Buffy broke off the smiling and the eye contact. She looked around sheepishly and Xander ducked his head back into his book, successfully concealing a smile of his own. He realized he’d noticed something none of the other Scoobies had, and he wasn’t going to tell anyone their secret if they didn’t want to broadcast it. Although, come to think of it, they hadn’t done anything to hide their eye contact, and he supposed if anyone had been paying close attention they would’ve noticed the snuggling couch research. Xander wondered what the girls would say when it came out.

As for him, he realized that he was kind of glad – Buffy actually found a guy who was good enough for her. And Giles, he knew Giles had loved her for years. It was hard to miss, considering he was the world’s foremost expert on unrequited love. Or at least he had been until An. Xander reached down to run his hand through his favorite girl’s hair, and she looked up from her book and smiled at him.

Giles got up to see Buffy to the door.

“Bye, guys.” Buffy flapped her hand as she moved past Giles and into the night. The Watcher stood holding the doorframe, looking a little wistfully after her, then closed the door and moved to pick up his own demonology text. He caught Xander watching him, and blushed. Xander grinned back, wordlessly trying to tell his friend that he didn’t need to be embarrassed about a thing.

Giles looked mildly surprised at the look in Xander’s eyes. Then comprehension dawned. Giles ducked his head, and then smiled at Xander, gratefully.

*******************************

An hour after Buffy’s departure, Xander looked up from the open book in his lap. “Hey, everybody, I think I found it.” All heads turned toward him. “Listen to this: ‘Ipos is the Twenty-second Spirit, who governs 36 Legions. He appears as an angel with a lion's head, a goose's foot, and a hare's tail. He knows of past, present, and future events, and makes men witty and bold.’”

“Thank goodness. I was definitely getting tired of reading.” Anya put her book down with a satisfied smile.

Giles looked over Xander’s shoulder to see the picture. He shook his head. “I should have known. The Ipos. But that makes no sense. Tara, will you cross check that in the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum? Try the alternative spelling: A-y-p-e-r-o-s. It should be under the Counts of Hell section.”

Tara leafed forward, finding the entry they were looking for. “Um, yes, I think it’s here, but it doesn’t say anything about spitting chocolate sauce.” She read, “‘Ipos [Ipes], alias Ayporos [Ayperos], is a great earle and a prince, appeering in the shape of an angell, and yet indeed more obscure and filthie than a lion, with a lions head, a gooses feet, and a hares taile: he knoweth things to come and past, he maketh a man wittie, and bold, and hath under his jurisdiction thirtie six legions.’”

“That sounds right, doesn’t it?” Xander asked. “The whole lion-goose thing right?” He looked at Giles for confirmation, then got nervous, his voice getting more and more urgent. “What are the legions they’re talking about Giles? Should we expect more lion-geese? Will there be a big fight? Do we need to recruit? I’m too young to die covered in chocolate.”

Giles frowned, whipping his glasses off and polishing them as he considered Xander’s slightly hysterical questions. “Xander, calm down. The _Pseudomonarchia_ simply refers to the mythical number of hellish legions the Ipos will lead when Satan rises up to fight against God in the last battle. We are not in any danger, as the end of all days is, at best guess, quite a few centuries off. You have nothing to worry about on that score. What does worry me, however, is the ‘goo factor’ isn’t mentioned in either of these books. Why on earth would the Ipos be shooting anything out of its mouth? It simply doesn’t make sense.”

Giles went into lecture mode, both thinking aloud and explaining to everyone else in the room. “Traditionally, if they are here before the end of all days, the Counts of Hell must be summoned to this plane. We must simply find out who summoned it, and then we can duplicate the ritual to send it back.”

Willow’s ears perked up at this. “Do we need to do a spell to find out who summoned it?”

“Yes, I believe I have the correct one here.” Giles turned away from the group gathered on the floor. He walked to the section of his bookcase that no one else ever got to touch. He opened one to a middle passage and began reading. Willow moved to read over his shoulder.

“Hey, this is easy! I could do this spell! It’s just scrying.” Giles looked down at her in thought.

“Would you mind casting it?” he asked. “It should give you a picture of the incantation as it happened. You’ll know the identity of the caster, and hopefully also find out why the demon is now covering people with chocolate,” he asked.

Willow was practically jumping up and down with excitement. “Totally! I have everything we need back in my room.” She shyly glanced over at Tara. “Do you want to help me?”

Before the other witch could answer there was a knock at the door. Xander, Anya and Tara looked at the door, then at Giles. Willow turned around to stare. No one they knew knocked on Giles’ door.

Xander broke the silence. “Giles? Expecting someone?”

Giles smiled. “It’s probably Buffy.”

“Huh? Since when does Buffy knock?” Xander asked.

Giles moved to the door, blushing. “Since last night.”

Anya and Tara shared another baffled gaze, but Xander smiled to himself. [Uh huh. Giles definitely has it bad for Buffy. And something definitely happened last night.]

*******************************

The door opened, revealing the welcome sight of Giles, with everyone else behind him. Buffy sighed with relief, and then, when the laughter started, realized she was never going to live this down.

Xander completely cracked up. Anya began with little giggles that graduated to full-bodied laughing noises, one hand covering her mouth and the other pointing at Buffy. Willow and Tara were snickering, and even Giles, her Giles, was laughing at her again.

“I told you if you kept laughing at me I was going to throw you in the path of that demon.” Buffy thundered at Giles. “And if I have to go back out there again to kill it *you’re* coming with me.”

Contrite, he contained his laugher and waved her inside. “I’m sorry Buffy, but you have to admit, you took us by surprise. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems as if the demon added whipped cream and cherries this time?”

Buffy began to move directly toward the bathroom. “Yes, the demon ‘added’ whipped cream and cherries. And cherries *hurt* when you’re being pelted with them. Please tell me you guys figured out what this thing is?”

Giles ducked his head, both to hide his smile and his excitement, “We did. It’s called an Ipos. However, we haven’t, as yet, found out its purpose, simply that it had to be summoned here. Also, there is no mention of it covering it’s victims in any kind of. . .” he started to smirk while searching for the right word, “. . .topping.”

Buffy sighed at her Watcher’s attempt at humor. “That’s right, keep laughing. It’s so funny to see Buffy covered in chocolate with whipped cream and cherries on top.”

This produced another guffaw from Xander, and Buffy turned to him with daggers in her eyes, “Don’t even start Xander. How about we get together again tomorrow and figure out how to get rid of this thing? I’d really like to have at least one night of patrol that doesn’t ruin my clothes. And right now I’m dripping on Giles’ floor.”

“Actually, Buffy,” Willow explained, “I’m going to go scry the ritual for us, so I’ll be able to tell you who did the summoning and hopefully how to reverse it.”

Buffy sighed in relief. “Awesome. Thanks, Will. You’re the best.”

Xander smiled at them all, and hopped off the couch with Anya. “And since we’re basically useless at this point – although I would like to point out I was the one who figured out which demon it was – how about An and I call it a night and let you get cleaned up?”

Buffy grinned back, “Perfect. Thanks, you guys, for helping figure out what it is.” Buffy smiled at everyone gratefully, hoping they’d go so she could clean off another night’s goop. Willow grabbed her bag and Tara stood as well.

Willow turned back to Buffy, “I should have the scrying done in a couple of hours. Do you want me to call you when I’ve figured it out?”

“Yeah, but call here.” Buffy hoped she wasn’t jumping to conclusions, but figured she and Giles could talk, if nothing else, after she got cleaned up. She carefully didn’t look at Giles, though. “It’ll take me a while to get clean. But I want to take care of this tonight if you figure out who it is I have to take care of.”

Willow nodded and she and Tara left, discussing the herbs they’d need.

After holding the door for Willow and Tara, Giles closed and locked it. He turned towards his whipped cream covered Slayer. She stood, dripping, cherries caught in her hair, whipped cream mixing with the chocolate, her expression suddenly mischievous. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

“Wanna help me clean up?” she invited.

Giles pretended to consider her offer, for a nanosecond, then grinned. “I’d hoped you would ask. I haven’t had dessert yet.” Buffy snorted, but her smile lit the room.

Giles crossed the room in two strides, lifting her chocolate and cream-spattered hand to his lips. Buffy gasped as he began to nibble on the palm of her hand, sucking off cream and grazing blunted teeth across her sensitive skin. Every nibble sent bolts of heat through her nerve endings. He looked up from her hand with a laugh dancing in his eyes.

“Shall we get you in the shower, love?”

“Yes, please.”

*******************************

Giles started the shower as Buffy pulled the soiled jacket from her shoulders and held it dripping over the tub. She picked off all the cherries that hadn’t fallen off on her way home and threw them into the bathroom trashcan. Once the water was warm, she climbed under the spray and pulled her sticky clothes off. She peeked out from behind the shower curtain to watch as Giles shucked his clothes. She sighed deeply, admiring every inch of skin revealed. He was like a present that unwrapped himself.

He looked up at her sigh and smiled at her with such tenderness that she thought she’d melt on the spot.

“Get over here,” she commanded.

“Coming . . .”

He climbed into the shower, reaching for her as he stepped in, trying to pull her into a kiss. She stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Hold on just a sec, I’m still too goopy, mister. You’re just gonna have to wait until I get a little cleaner.” Buffy turned to stand directly under the water, and began to wipe her body down with her hands.

Giles grabbed the washcloth and soap. He wrapped his arms around her so he could wet the washcloth in the spray, and in the process managed to show Buffy just how happy he was to be in the shower with her. She gave up her fight to get clean and leaned back against his chest, rubbing her ass against his erection, loving the feel of his arms around her. She was warmed by the shower on one side, and by the knee-trembling heat coming from Giles on the other. His teeth nibbled at her earlobe, making her shiver just a little in his arms.

“Cold?” he whispered into her ear.

“N-not exactly,” she said as she rubbed herself against him. His hands moved to clasp her hips, and she chuckled as he dropped the washcloth to be able to hold her. She half turned towards him. “Hey, pick that back up. One of us is way too sticky, and the other is getting that way fast.”

“I can’t argue with that.” With a chuckle of his own, Giles knelt down in the shower to grab the washcloth. He looked up the line of her body and couldn’t resist licking a little chocolate that had landed on her hip. Buffy, surprised by his mouth on her skin, turned to face him completely, presenting him with the most magnificent view. Despite the chocolate and cream still dripping from her shoulders and chest, she was beautiful with water running down her curves. His breath caught. She smiled at him, reaching one hand to trail her fingers along his lips again.

He kissed them, then moved forwards to grab her hips and bring them close to his mouth. She gasped when his lips touched her sex, gasped again as his mouth moved on her. She clenched her hand in his hair as the tip of his tongue darted to taste her. His mouth was incredibly hot, and she writhed a little as her body reacted to his tongue. He pulled her closer, almost off balance, nibbling and kissing her clit with a devouring mouth.

She began to moan and gasp above him, both hands moving to his shoulders to try to keep her balance. Suddenly she cried out a sharp high noise, her body, for one moment, going completely rigid.

Giles rose to hold her in his arms while she panted. Once Buffy recovered she pulled the washcloth out of his hand. “All that just because I asked you to pick up the washcloth?”

“What can I say?” Giles unrepentantly replied. “I got distracted.”

She laughed, and sudsed up the washcloth to finally get the remains of the demon’s goo off of them both. Once she’d soaped her own body she turned the washcloth on Giles, soaping everywhere that he’d touched her and gotten sticky. He laughed as she soaped his chest and shoulders, while he ran slicked hands from her breasts to her waist again and again. She pulled him further under the water with her, so they could rinse off together.

She leaned into him, and his arms went around her. Boldly, she took his cock in her soapy hand. He growled at the contact, pulling her tighter against him. She looked up to find his eyes closed and his head tilted back, the long line of his neck exposed. She leaned forward to bite him, her hand still stroking his length between them. Giles groaned at that, and she began to stroke him faster. She’d never realized showers could be so fun. His cock slid so delightfully through her palm. Giles’ hips began to thrust in time with her movements, and now it was his turn to clutch her shoulders as she tightened her grip.

He opened his eyes and crushed her lips to his. No gentle kisses this time; she was swept away by the passion in his touch. But she wanted to taste him, too, so she ripped her lips from his and sank to her knees in the water, rinsing him a little before taking him into her mouth.

“Dear lord, Buffy!” he cried out as she wrapped her tongue around his length. She was beginning to love the new way he said her name.

She pulled him closer, her hands closing on his adorable ass. She tried to take every inch into her mouth, sucking and licking. His body began to tremble and Buffy knew he was getting closer, but his hands pulled her back up against him.

“Why did you make me stop?” she asked as began to kiss her neck and shoulders.

“Because I want to be buried inside you when I come,” he growled, before ravishing her mouth again. She gave back as good as she got, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as their tongues dueled. He picked her up and leaned her against the cool tile, his hips twitching, rubbing his prick along her opening. Buffy arched her back, tilting her hips to maneuver him inside her. He teased her for a second, until she made a small sound of protest. Slowly his cock pierced her, slowly she pulsed downwards, feeling every inch of him sliding in, filling her. The water made everything happen so smoothly, and suddenly he was completely buried in her, his lips at her shoulder, his hands at her hips, holding her close to him.

They moved together, letting the heat build where their bodies connected. His hips languorously began to push against hers. She moaned every time he arched, her hands gripping his shoulders. They both began to thrust faster, the slap of Buffy’s hips against the wall blending with the sound of falling water. Buffy’s cries turned louder, more frantic, as her hands and hips urged Giles on. She came, panting his name, shuddering against the tiles as he thrust deeply into her. Moments later, Giles thrust a final time, his muscles turning to steel beneath her as his own orgasm struck.

Panting Giles put Buffy back on her feet. She reached out to pull him close, and they stood with the water sluicing off their bodies, kissing under the shower for a few minutes, just basking in each other’s embrace. When the water turned cold, Buffy leaned over to turn the shower off.

“Hmm, pretty good for an apartment. You must have the world’s biggest water heater,” she commented as she grabbed a towel.

Giles’ forehead crinkled in thought as he toweled himself off. “I’ve never had the opportunity to test it before.”

She turned to him. “I think I’m glad about that. Glad I got to test it with you.”

He smiled at her. “I am, as well. Thank you.” He grabbed his robe and held it out for Buffy to climb into. She snuggled into the cloth again, then pulled his arms to wrap them around her.

“You know, this is two nights in a row. I don’t think I’m going to be able to give up your robe very easily.”

“You know you don’t have to, love.”

The phone rang, surprising both out of their adoring expressions. At Buffy’s questioning look, Giles murmured, “Willow.” Buffy laughed. She’d completely forgotten Willow was going to call.

Giles padded into the living room in his towel to pick up the phone, Buffy admiring the view as he walked away.

She hugged herself a little. [How did I miss seeing him before? He’s gorgeous. He’s perfect. It’s like I was blind. Well, not anymore.] She walked out to wrap her arms around him. [In fact, it’s like my eyes are staked open. He’s the *one*.] She hugged him tighter as that thought sank in, and his arm wrapped around her in return.

She could faintly hear Willow’s voice on the other end of the line. [Slayer hearing comes in handy again.] Apparently Jonathan, the guy who tried to kill himself in high school, summoned the demon.

“I’m not exactly sure about this,” Willow continued, “I think the demon might be spitting ice cream sundae ingredients on people because Jonathan actually left an ice cream sundae in the circle when he did the casting. I’ve never seen anything so weird.” Willow giggled. “At least Buffy didn’t get covered in ice cream! Or maybe the demon’s saving it for a third attack. But after Jonathan raised the demon it looks like it covered him in chocolate too. And Jonathan destroyed the circle by accident. He just kind of fell over.”

“Wonderful, Willow. Were you able to see where he is, or where he performed the spell?” Giles asked.

“Not at first. But the demon kind of hovered over Jonathan until he woke up, then he ran screaming out of the house and the demon followed him.” Willow’s voice got excited. “It’s right by my parents house! The demon got outside and then started to walk the other direction from Jonathan, so he crept back into his house. Buffy must’ve run up a couple of minutes after it got out. Anyway, it’s two doors down on the south side of the street.”

“Brilliant.” Giles thought for a few minutes. “The demon is probably harmless. The addition of the ice cream sundae to the circle may have combined with the demon’s essence when it materialized. Its powers have been channeled into this material form. However, we should still send it back to its own dimension. I think perhaps we ought to take care of this tonight.” He looked at Buffy for confirmation, and she nodded her head in agreement. “Willow, can you meet us in front of Jonathan’s house in a half an hour? You and I can perform the reversal ritual.”

“Absolutely! What should I bring?”

“Can you tell what ingredients Jonathan used for his original spell?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Bring those. We shouldn’t have a problem finding the demon – it will lurk in the area of the summoner until it’s been released from this dimension.”

“That’s why it was in the same neighborhood last night,” Buffy mused. Giles nodded in response.

“Don’t go in until we get there, Willow. I don’t know why Jonathan hasn’t banished the demon already, but there may be some reason. We should all go in together.”

”No problem,” Willow responded, the excitement in her tone at doing the spell slightly dampened. “I’ll meet you guys in front of his place in half an hour. Bye!”

Giles hung up the phone and turned to take Buffy more fully into his arms. “Shall we get dressed and get rid of this demon?”

She hugged him close. “We shall.”

*******************************

“Jonathan?” Buffy called as she walked down the basement stairs of his house. Willow and Giles followed behind. “Hello? Anyone home?”

She heard a slight whimper and followed the sound to its source. She found a huddled mass in the corner. She reached forward to help him stand up. “Jonathan? What happened to you?”

“Is it still here?” Jonathan whimpered.

“Well, we hope so. Somewhere. Otherwise it’s out covering someone else with chocolate.”

“Oh, god. I can’t handle this.” Jonathan sat back down and put his face in his hands. Even though he looked pretty wretched, Buffy didn’t have much sympathy for him. After all, he was the reason not one, but two, of her outfits had been completely ruined.

“You can so handle this. If I can handle being covered with whipped cream and cherry vomit from a demon you summoned, you can totally handle the fact we’re sending it back. What did you think you were doing summoning a demon?”

Jonathan stared up at her, “It was the perfect plan. I was trying to get up the courage to ask Angelina out before she moved away. Ipos was supposed to imbue me with mythical wit and boldness. I was going to summon it and ask her out. But when I called it, it barfed chocolate me and chased me out into the street. That wasn’t supposed to happen. And now I think it’s hanging around outside the front of the house.” He hung his head in misery. “I’ve been too afraid to go outside. I don’t even know if Angelina’s still here.”

“Well, you might’ve tried showing up on her doorstep covered in chocolate and seen how that worked for you,” Buffy heartlessly teased him. She heard Giles cough behind her and turned to grin at him. Willow was engrossed with Jonathan’s ritual circle and missed their entire exchange. “Anyway, we’re here to send the demon back. So you’d better hope it gets here in the next couple of minutes.”

Jonathan looked frightened again, but Buffy wasn’t about to let him hide in a corner. She was about to start lecturing him when he gasped and pointed at the top of the stairs. The demon stood in the doorway, then began to shamble down. Buffy stood at the bottom step and called to Giles and Willow. “Guys? You ready for this thing?”

Willow looked up from the circle she’d drawn over Jonathan’s on the floor and nodded. Giles responded, “We’re ready Buffy. Don’t hurt the demon. Hopefully it wants to go back to its own dimension as much as we want to send it. Simply let it take its place in the circle.”

Buffy took a step backward, trying to remain menacing, but not scare the monster away again. If it tried anything . . .

But it seemed it was her night, for once. Willow began to chant and the demon moved to stand directly in the middle of the circle. Giles added his voice to Willow’s, and suddenly the circle flared white. The light engulfed the demon’s body, but not before they heard it say, “Thank you. That manifestation was simply foul. I hate chocolate.”

Buffy let out a breath of relief. “Everyone thinks they’re a joker, don’t they?” She turned to Giles and Willow. “Now that you guys have done your good deed for the day, let’s go home.” The both nodded, Willow closing the circle and beginning to pick up the magical items she’d brought with her.

Buffy walked back to where Jonathan still sat on the floor. “Jonathan, a couple of words of wisdom for you. One, don’t ever leave an ice cream sundae in your casting circle. Even I know that. Two, don’t use demons to get girls. Trust me, it never works. Three, if I ever find you raising demons again I won’t be so gentle. So don’t do it, okay?”

Jonathan blinked at her, her words sinking in. “I had my dessert in the casting circle?”

Buffy shook her head in dismay. “Was that the only thing you heard me say? Yes, you are a big magical dummy who left your dessert in the circle. Even the demon wasn’t happy that it had to spew chocolate. And since that seemed to be the only thing you heard, I’ll say this again: DON’T DO IT AGAIN!”

“Okay! Okay! I hear you.” Jonathan shrank away from Buffy. Satisfied she’d yelled him into submission, she joined Giles and Willow on the stairs.

*******************************

Back on the street Willow waved goodnight and headed home to Tara. Buffy stood close to Giles as she waved, wondering just a little that her best friend hadn’t noticed her new happy grin yet. [Oh well. Maybe tomorrow. I’m definitely going to tease her about this later though.]

A thought occurred to her. “Hey, Giles, if that demon was supposed to make men witty and bold, is that what prompted you to attack me after I got out of the shower last night?”

Giles paused, considering his answer before he spoke. “I wouldn’t normally have ‘attacked’ you. Not that I hadn’t *thought* about doing similar things before. I simply never acted on them. But,” he turned to wrap Buffy into his arms, “the demon’s influence would only last for a few minutes because I’d ingested so little of the chocolate. Except for that little push, my actions were entirely my own.”

She smiled. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.” They turned to walk towards his apartment. Buffy tried to formulate her next question in as non-threatening a way as she could. She didn’t want to ask him the heavy emotional questions right now, figuring there’d be time enough later to tell him how much she loved him, and see if he loved her too. She hoped so. But she didn’t want to wake up without him either. After a couple of steps, she finally got the words together and stopped him to ask, “I have another question for you. Can we make the current sleeping arrangement permanent?”

His smile made his eyes crinkle. “Only on one condition.” She held her breath, suddenly worried he was going to ask her something weird. “Do you love me?”

She flung herself into his arms and pulled his lips down to hers, trying to express just how much she loved him in a kiss. Her own knees got weak with his enthusiastic response. When she felt like she wasn’t going to be able to stand up anymore she released his lips.

“May I take that as a yes, then?” he asked.

She whacked him softly on the arm. “Yes!” Her face drew into pouty lines and she looked up at him with puppy dog eyes. “But you still haven’t told me how you feel about me.”

His arms pulled her tight against him. “You mean you don’t know?” he teased. She shook her head no, but her joy danced in her eyes. “I love you. When I woke with you in my arms this morning I never wanted you to leave. I think I might even love you more than tweed.”

Buffy gasped, then laughed and pulled him to her. The smile that remained on her face was impossibly huge. “That’ll have to do.”

He laughed and put his arm around her shoulders. As they walked away, Buffy raised the last question of the evening. “Now, who are we going to get to tell Mom?”

“What about Xander? He already knows.”

She was startled enough to stop walking. “He does?”

“He is rather observant sometimes.”

Buffy smiled. “Perfect.” They started down the street again. “Mom’s always liked him. She won’t kill him, right?”

“Probably not. We can hope.”

~the end~

*******************************

Requirements:
1) Both Buffy and Giles laughing (they didn't laugh enough on the show)
2) Xander as the Scooby who sees B/G potential or isn't surprised when it happens
3) Buffy and Giles feeding each other finger foods as a prelude to or part of the sex.
Restriction: Absolutely no BDSM (and that includes silk scarves used consensually). I have a gigantic squick about that.

just testing

2004-08-16T23:50:00.000-07:00

to see if the new blogger top nav gets me if i update

dirty thought V

2004-08-15T23:18:00.000-07:00

Been dreaming about sexual situations lately. There’s something frighteningly hot about someone walking up, his body close to mine, his hand between us, rubbing me through my clothes. Love having a man rub three fingers across my pussy, feeling the clothes that are a barrier and a friction. It’s sexy and tasty and gets me wet. Partially because the sensation is dulled – no direct contact is like a promise, a tease, just a taste of what our bodies could do. Should do.

I want to be fucked like no body’s business. But what I want most are those first hot touches that make me feel every inch of my skin. I want to be felt up through my clothes, want to dry hump for a while, until I’m at a fever pitch. I don’t want naked to come so easy. I want to get laid, but only after I’ve had my clothes on for a while.

Which is weird, because usually I'm such a nudist that I couldn't care less about clothes. Maybe that's part of it though. There's something new and exciting about rubbing up against a cock encased in jeans. There's something hot about soaking through my underwear cuz i'm so ready.

headed off at the pass

2004-08-02T22:20:00.000-07:00

Pairing: B/G

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Giles gets a job at UC Sunnydale, and overhears some of his female students talking about Parker and his evil ways. To head off potential disaster with Buffy, Giles finds her and Parker. Response to Michelle’s challenge (at end of story)

Timeline: Season 4, during “Harsh Light of Day”

Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. Plot lines aren’t even really mine. All hail the mighty and benevolent Joss for making it all possible.

Distribution: WatcherGirls, ODD, GilesRulesBaby & BuffyGiles.com and BGWM. Okay anywhere else. Just tell me where it is so I can revel in the idea that someone other than me might be reading what I wrote.

Feedback: Welcomed and appreciated.

Notes: [Thoughts] *Emphasis* I did muck with the episode timeline a bit. It was intentional. I apologize if it's a little disconcerting.

Date: 5/10/04

Thanks: Many, many, many thanks to the ever patient, always brilliant, great ElizaBuffy: you are eagle-eyed and I thank you. To the exacting, meticulous and challenging Linda: you are a wonder and a marvel and I deeply appreciate it.

CHAPTER 1

“Thank you for agreeing to take over Professor Helm’s classes on such short notice, Dr. Giles. I must again express my surprise to find such a qualified professor free of other commitments.” Dean Simmons was amazed by the credentials of the man. . . although he was a bit of a contradiction. Oxford, Summa Cum Laude, a tenured History department professor, curator at the British Museum, coming here to Sunnydale to tend the high school library! “But, surprise aside, it’s lovely to be able to welcome you as one of our part-time faculty.”

[If only you knew, Dean Simmons…if only you knew.] “Please, call me Rupert. It is a pleasure to again be associated with an institution of higher learning, Dean Simmons. I hope I’ll be able to do justice to the material,” replied Giles. [Ah, America, you’re always terribly impressed with old institutions.]

Giles’ slightly enigmatic smile didn’t comfort the Dean, but his reply was more than satisfactory. Dean Simmons had never been a man to look a gift horse in the mouth, nor a gift professor like Giles. And he was willing to work part time, so the tight university budget wouldn’t be strained by his addition. But then again, at the rate they lost some of their professors, maybe he could get Giles to take over more classes. Sunnydale both attracted and repelled professors, and he had a devil of a time keeping quality people on hand.

“Rupert. And please, call me Irving. My secretary will send you the rest of the paperwork, and here are the course guides and descriptions of the class. You will, of course, be able to make modifications to the lectures as you see fit, but I’m afraid all of the reading material is fixed. Most students pick up the books for their classes at the beginning of the semester. I hope that won’t be too much of a problem?”

“I don’t think it presents too many difficulties. This seems to be quite standard material. I’m sure the students and I will be fine.” Giles felt like rubbing his hands with glee. Researching demons was one thing, but he’d truly enjoyed teaching when he was at Oxford. He was delighted to return to a classroom, even if UC Sunnydale’s History 101 course was basically filled with the standard mind-numbing material. He’d see what he could do about changing that.

He shook hands with the dean, left his number and address with the secretary, and walked back home, mentally congratulating himself on how well the second interview had gone. Wouldn’t the gang be surprised? He debated telling them or letting them find out for themselves. And he wondered if it had really been such a good idea to leave Xander alone in his apartment shelving books.

**************************

“Oh my god, he did it to you, too?”

“Yep, my first week here last year. He’s such a pig.”

Giles stood at the door of his classroom, waiting for the conversation just on the other side to end. His first week of teaching had gone quite well, but these kinds of impromptu conversations seemed to occur directly after his evening classes, making it very hard for him to get out the door. Like clockwork, two women would stand just outside the classroom and chat for several minutes. He tried not to listen to their conversation, but his efforts were constantly thwarted. Today was no exception.

“Parker Abrams should be strung up. Or at least he should come with a warning label or something.”

Giles’ eyes widened at that. Parker was the young man Buffy had been hanging out with all week. Although he hadn’t met the boy yet, Buffy had rambled on and on about him once she’d recovered her voice from the shock of his professorship. He couldn’t help but be a little jealous of her infatuation, but at least she seemed to be moving on from Angel.

“I know; he’s such an ass. I’ve talked to like a dozen girls he’s done that to, and the sad part is he uses the same routine over and over. His dead father, his ‘I don’t want comfort’ attitude. Then he slept with me and tried to tell me I was crazy when I called him the next day and wanted to hang out. He’s collecting little notches on his belt buckle. It’s just sick. I think this year he’s trying the whole thing on another freshman.”

“You know who he’s doing it to? We should warn her or something. Just so she’s prepared.”

“Would she really listen, though? Someone actually tried to warn me, but I just thought she was an angry ex-girlfriend. Parker gave me some line about her having mental problems and I totally believed him. She’d probably do the same thing.”

Giles had heard enough. The little pillock wasn’t going to use Buffy. She’d had enough trouble with men for ten lifetimes. She mentioned skipping patrolling in favor of accompanying him to a campus party. Giles’ lips hardened into a thin line. He had to do something.

**************************

He walked through the press of dancers in front of the band and saw them sitting on the couch. Damn. Buffy looked luminous. That stupid prat was leaning towards her as they shared some conspiratorial joke. Giles stood watching, realizing he’d arrived without a plan. He was stuck and didn’t know how to break up their conversation, much less warn her. He was half-tempted to just go over and hurt the man. No one took advantage of his Buffy, not when he could help it.

His heart started to race as he watched Parker begin to lean in for a kiss. Giles couldn’t help himself. . . he walked over to the couch. At his advance, Buffy looked up in startled surprise.

He leaned into her ear to whisper, “I’ll explain later,” then captured her mouth in a kiss.

Buffy didn’t know how to react. Giles’ mouth was hot, and her mouth opened as she gasped a little at the surprise of his onslaught. He took full advantage and deepened the kiss. Her head began to spin – his mouth was demanding, almost crushing, and so very warm. She was stunned at her body’s response to his tongue sliding across her lips. Impulsively, her hand came up and held his head close. She didn’t want him to stop. The world fell away and the only thing left were his lips against hers.

Giles was lost. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but his possessive instinct reared its head, and instead of concocting some story, he’d done the very thing he’d wanted to do since prom. Buffy’s mouth was exquisite. He took fierce pleasure in the feeling of her lips against his, and a thrill of joy went through him when her hand held his head to hers. He didn’t want to stop.

Sounds of the party and Parker’s disgruntled exclamation broke into their consciousness at the same time. Giles regretfully ended their kiss, lingering just a little on the side of Buffy’s mouth, wanting nothing more than to finish what his lips had started.

Buffy was out of breath when Giles pulled away. Heart pounding, her brain was doing some definite mental calculations. [Not old and *so* not gross] She blinked up at Giles, trying to regain her equilibrium, and instead became mesmerized with his mouth. She wondered how she could get him to kiss her like that again.

Meanwhile, Parker continued to make weird guppy-like sounds of surprise. Giles looked over at the idiot and watched as the poor boy tried to pick his jaw off the ground. A warm feeling of pleasure washed through Giles as Parker looked back and forth between him and Buffy, trying to understand the situation. Finally, his gaze rested on Buffy.

“Buffy? Who is this guy?” Parker squeaked.

Giles turned to look at her, realizing with some chagrin that he had absolutely no idea what she was going to say. He was thrilled that she still seemed to be in a daze, her eyes resting on his lips. It’d been a long time since he’d kissed anyone like that. His heart rose to see that his kiss affected her so strongly

Parker tried to interrupt again, “Hello, Buffy? What’s going on?”

Buffy blinked, shook her head, and turned to her sputtering date, “Um . . . Parker? This is Giles . . . He’s my . . .” Words failed her. She had no idea how to explain what was going on, because she had no idea what had just happened.

Oh, she knew her very sexy and very non-gross Watcher had just kissed her hard enough to make her head spin, but she had no idea what had prompted it. Hadn’t Giles whispered something in her ear before he’d kissed her? She tried to remember, but his kiss had spread a haze over the rest of the evening.

Giles stepped in when Buffy faltered. “Ah, Parker. I’ve heard so much about you. None of it good.” He turned a steely gaze on the sophomore, who shrank back from the look in Giles’ eyes and the implied threat in his tone. “I’d like a word with you outside. If you wouldn’t mind? Buffy, dear one, we’ll be right back.” He placed a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder, not waiting for assent or denial, and ushered him out of the room.

Buffy watched them leave, still partially dazed, and ran her fingers across her still tingling lips. [Dear one? I’m his dear one?!]

**************************

Outside, Giles’ hand dropped from Parker’s shoulder. The young man turned to the Watcher and began to sputter, but Giles stopped him.

“I know exactly what you were doing in there, and I will only give you one warning. One chance. Never touch that woman again. She deserves far more than you can possibly give her. If I ever hear from any woman, on this campus or off of it, that you have added another notch to your belt in the deceitful manner you in which were going about it tonight, I will personally see to it that you never have the opportunity to do so again.” Although his voice was low and controlled, the open threat in it made Parker take a step back and shiver in fear. This guy, whoever he was, was serious. Parker didn’t doubt a single word.

As he continued, Giles’ tone made Parker wince. “Have I made myself clear?”

The shaken sophomore nodded, then realized some verbal reply was required, “Yes.” At Giles’ arched eyebrow he added, “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Then this, I believe, is goodnight.” Parker simply nodded, then headed away on unsteady legs. He felt like he’d come within an inch of losing his life tonight, and the only thing the guy had done was talk to him. [Who was he? What was he doing with Buffy?] He wandered away realizing that the answers didn’t really matter. The guy had scared the crap out of him.

**************************

Giles turned to find Buffy in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing an inscrutable expression. She moved to stand directly in front of him. Buffy realized that she didn’t give a damn about Parker. By the time Giles had finished with his speech she’d figured out what was going on: with her date, with her Watcher, and with her heart. She was kind of in shock…but she knew what really mattered to her was what happened next. Between the two of them.

Giles swallowed. Her eyes fixed on his face as he asked, “How much did you hear?”

“I came in at ‘she deserves far more’.” Buffy took a step closer to Giles. She drew a deep breath before she asked her $20,000 question. “Giles, what do I deserve?”

He replied on instinct, “Everything. You deserve everything.”

Her mouth turned up at the corners, and he watched the happiness bubble into her eyes. “Everything huh? You offering?”

Crazy joy welled up in Giles’ heart. He leaned down, moving slowly in case he’d completely misread his Slayer, and murmured his reply against her lips.

“Yes.”

CHAPTER 2: The Naughty Bits That Happened After

Lips crushed together, arms wrapped around each other, they were completely oblivious to the party behind them until it crashed through the doorway and nearly collided with them. Giles pulled away from Buffy to see a mass of laughing, dancing, whirling, college students, all chanting at the top of their lungs. He quickly moved them both out of the path of the conga line.

Buffy wrapped him tighter in her arms and smiled at the passing revelers.

“Buffy?” Giles murmured into the top of her head, “do you want . . .I mean, c-can we . . . can we go to my . . . “

The laugh burbled out of her and tickled his chin. “Giles, are you trying – in a terribly debonair way – to invite me to continue this at your place?” She looked into his eyes, watching the blush move from neck to cheeks to hairline. She lightly smacked his chest. “Hey, you can’t go into uber-bashful mode now; you just liberated me from my evil not-quite-boyfriend. And made a very large and completely open-ended promise that I expect you to fill to the letter.”

Slightly chastised, Giles grinned unrepentantly at the woman in his arms as his blush faded. She was far more understanding and intuitive than he had any right to expect. She always had been. He’d just never truly been on the receiving end of it.

“Then, before I get caught by some passing member of the faculty and get fired for making a pass at one of my students, can we please go back to my apartment?”

“Oh, so you’re just worried about your reputation huh?” Buffy retorted.

“Truthfully, I don’t give a damn about my reputation. But if you don’t come back with me I’m not going to be able to give you much of anything, much less everything.” Uncharacteristically, Giles pouted, just a little bit, trying to turn the tables on Buffy. His expression turned dark and mournful and his mouth turned down. He was adorable, especially because Buffy had never seen this side of him before, and she could still see the laughter dancing in his eyes.

She giggled at his mournful expression. “Okay, I give. We’ll go back to your place. But only if you never use that pout on me again!” She laced strong fingers through his and began tugging them in the direction of his apartment.

“Unfair. I’ve finally discovered an expression that approximates your pout, am getting my way, and you tell me I can never use it again? Buffy, you’re a cruel, cruel woman.” Giles threw an arm around her shoulders and tucked her against his body, reveling in the fact that he could finally do so.

Buffy snuggled close, “Fair’s fair. You’ve gotten your way more than once tonight. If I let you call all the shots, you’re going to think you deserve to win all the time. And Watcher-mine, you know I can’t have you thinking that. I’m the one who’s supposed to win.”

“Don’t worry. Your winning streak isn’t in jeopardy. You’ve been getting your way with me for years with a single pout. I just want to be able to hold my own.”

“I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but I’m in a revealing mood tonight. Giles, if you kiss me like you did back at that party, you’ll get your way every time, pout or no pout.”

Delight surged through him at her words. He barely restrained the shout of happiness that threatened to explode from his chest. “I suppose if that’s the key to getting my way, I’ll have to practice a great deal. A very great deal.”

“Practice, practice, practice. Now you really do sound all Watchery. Next you’ll be trying to get me to train, or go on patrol, or something.” Buffy couldn’t stop their silly conversation, any more than she could quell the pure joy that seemed to be shining from every one of her pores. She knew this was crazy – an hour ago she would’ve been the one making guppy-noises at the mere mention of herself and Giles together – but every single cell in her body had done a 180 after his lips touched hers.

“Well, officially employed or not, you know I always take my job *very* seriously.” His low tone held a challenge and a promise.

Buffy felt giddy at the thought of being taken *very seriously* by this new, luscious Giles. She arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? How seriously?”

They stopped walking, confronted by Giles’ front door. It seemed like they’d flown over the intervening distance. Giles pulled Buffy inside, put his back to the closed door, and drew Buffy into his arms.

“This seriously.”

He pulled her closer. She tilted her mouth to his. Both shuddered at the heat they generated from just a kiss. Giles tried to convey, with lips, and teeth and tongue, just how much he wanted her. Just how much he loved her. He put everything into building the heat between their bodies, and felt Buffy tremble in his arms.

She was blown away. She could feel his passion pulse through every taste of his mouth. Their first kiss had been good enough to give her aftershocks. Their second had made her want to laugh with joy. Their third. . . their third was so full and tender, so hot and sweet and passionate that she wanted to rip Giles’ clothes off him or sink into a puddle on the floor. Instead, she kissed him back with as much fervor as she could, wordlessly trying to show him just how much he affected her.

Giles groaned under her mouth, his knees already unsteady and trembling with need. His hands shaped her body, fingers drawing lines across her back, over her waist, clutching at her ass to pull her closer.

Buffy gasped into his mouth and ground against him, trying to get inside his skin. Then she realized they were still fully clothed and neither one of them had done anything about it. She broke their kiss.

“Giles? You know you’re wearing way too many clothes, right?” She took up their bantering tone again, proud that her voice was mostly steady between pants.

“Isn’t that my line?” he growled. His fingers splayed along her ribcage, moving in slow circles from her back to her ribs, lightly grazing her breasts as he did so. She gasped at the contact; and her gasp set him on fire. He could barely stop himself from tearing her evening outfit from her, or at least untying the convenient knot at the back of her top.

“I don’t know? Is it?” She started slowly unbuttoning his shirt, planting honeyed kisses along his chest as she revealed it.

“Dear lord, Buffy!” Giles gritted out as he felt her lips against his collarbone. She nipped and kissed her way from there almost to his navel, hearing him gasp over and over as she planted more kisses along his chest.

Buffy giggled again. “Hmmm, ‘dear lord’? That’s not the sound of a man who thinks I’m wearing too many clothes.” She traced fingers over his chest and back, lightly stroking, softly kissing, while Giles unsuccessfully tried to free himself from his sleeves.

“Bloody hell I don’t!” he said, finally shrugging the cloth from his wrists. He swept Buffy into his arms and began marching her up the stairs. He continued, “You’ve got so much on I think you might be suffocating!”

Buffy giggled against the hollow in his neck. Giggles turned into kisses, then bites. After a moment, she realized that all movement toward the loft had stopped. She dragged her head away from his lovely skin to ask, “Giles? Any reason we’ve stopped all forward progress?”

Giles stood panting, paused in mid-step, and attempted to quell the shivers her teeth raised.

“N-no, well, um… Buffy you really ought to think about not using your teeth until we’re somewhere safe.” He panted for a moment more, his breath soft on her check. “Preferably when I can return the favor.”

“Hmmm, I suppose I can take that into consideration . . . but Giles, you taste so good. I might just have to overrule you, safe or not.” Buffy went back to nibbling, slowly moving her lips up to his ear. An agonized groan filled with laughter rumbled up from his chest.

After a few seconds, he resumed his progress upstairs, cursing under his breath at the number of steps. Buffy continued to giggle into his collarbone, particularly when he stumbled on the last step.

“Giles? Think you can make it to the bed? Or should I be the one carrying you?”

“Maybe next time.”

She thrilled at the promise in his voice. [Next time! I’m suspiciously happy that there’s going to be a next time and we haven’t even had a first time. This is crazy. I love it.]

“Next time, huh? Cocky, aren’t we?”

“No, just . . .” He’d reached the bed. Laying her against the coverlets, he drew her arms from around his neck, leaning in for another kiss as he stretched her arms above her head. He leaned above her, captured hands close, and drove his hips against hers in a sudden move that made her break their kiss and gasp for air.

“. . . hopeful.”

Kissing and biting her neck, he released her hands so that he could rest his own along the bottom of her top. His fingers moved unerringly toward the tie in back, when he realized there was a much better way to get his Slayer unclothed. He stood up and extended his hand, “Come here, Buffy.”

Her breath caught in her throat. He was beautiful standing before her, shirt off, breathing heavily. “Why am I leaving the bed when you just expended so much energy getting me into it?”

The smile reached his eyes first. “Stand up and find out”

She accepted his hand, stood, and felt him turn her around. “Giles?”

“Patience, Buffy. Haven’t I told you yet that patience is a virtue?” His hands smoothed down her sides. His lips moved to her neck again, and he pushed her hair to one side so he could kiss his way across her blushing shoulders. The top, what little there was of it, laced down her back. She was so alluring and he wondered if she knew the thrall in which she had him. He slowly moved unsteady hands towards the laces, untying the knot he’d noticed earlier, kissing the skin underneath every lace. When he’d loosened the ties enough he crossed his arms around her front and slid the top sensuously off her skin.

His hands curled around her from behind, pulling her against him. She hummed as he drew her close, feeling his chest against her back, his arms around her, his fingers stroking paths of fire along her skin. His mouth came down on her neck, biting harder this time, until she almost cried out. He cupped her breasts, fingers twisting her nipples softly, feeling them tighten.

“Harder Giles, please?” she whispered, sending an electric shock through his body. He complied, slowly twisting harder and harder until she was panting at every turn. He held her close as she writhed in his arms. Her moans and whimpers distracted him from his delightful worship, and he moved up her neck to capture her lips with his.

She turned in his arms and it was his turn to gasp as her breasts came in contact with his chest. [So bloody smooth, every inch of her skin.] His hands moved to the top button of her pants. Both watched as he pulled, popping one button after the other. Buffy shivered and Giles looked up.

“Cold?” His hands smoothed over her hips, turning the top of her pants down, revealing the black lace beneath. She shivered again.

She smiled, “Not exactly.”

He grinned as he pushed her gaping pants off her hips.

“Good.”

He helped her step out of them and looked at the delicious woman before him. She grinned at him, feeling a little self-conscious standing before him in nothing but her panties.

“Giles, once again we have a clothing problem.” He arched an eyebrow and smiled.

“Do we?”

“Yeah. You’re still wearing too much in the way of clothes.” She put her hands on her hips, “I demand you get out of them right now!”

“You demand, huh? And why am I giving in to you?” She turned her budding pout on full force and he couldn’t resist. He stepped close, one hand undoing the buttons of his pants, the other grabbing her by the shoulder to bring her to him. He leaned down and bit at her pouting lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Her hands moved to his waist, helping him unfasten and push his pants and underwear down his legs.

She reached out, placing her palm against his raging erection. He gasped, her touch sending a warm jolt down the length of him. A slow burn spread through every nerve in his body. He grabbed her shoulders tightly to crush her against him and shuddered.

“Cold?” she asked with a grin as her hand curled around him. His hips arched towards her, silently begging her not to stop stroking him.

He gave a rough laugh. “Not . . . exactly.” One of his hands curled between her legs, stroking her through the lace that covered her. She moaned and leaned into him, kissing his collarbone again, hips slowly arching towards his questing fingers. He ducked his head, lips in the hollow of her neck, and sucked her skin open-mouthed. She pushed herself closer, trying to drive his fingers deeper, as her hand moved urgently on his cock. She’d never felt this – this rising tide that felt like it was sweeping her away, this urgent need that centered between her legs but burned over every inch of her skin.

She thrashed against his hand and suddenly it wasn’t enough. She wanted him inside her, and couldn’t wait any longer. She pushed him towards the bed, until he fell backwards onto the coverlet. He looked rumpled, panting and so very hard for her. She trailed one hand from his shoulder to hip, loving the feel of his skin, reveling in the scars and the fine hairs that brushed against her fingertips.

“You know, you’re amazing.” She breathed as her hand closed on his cock and began to stroke.

Delight glinted in his face again, laughter mixed with a lust so deep it made his voice hoarse. “You haven’t seen anything yet, I promise.”

She smiled, “That’s a promise I’m going to make you keep.”

She stood above him, radiant and ready, and ripped her panties from her body. He reached to pull her closer, bring her against him, and she straddled him, leaning down for a kiss.

He drank deeply from her lips, growling and moaning as her body moved over his own. His hands moved from her waist to her breasts and back, to pull her ass closer to him. His cock was captured between them, painfully hard. His hips began thrusting of their own accord, reveling in the silk of her skin. He groaned again against her lips, a moan of frustration this time, wanting her so badly, but unable to properly express his longing.

Buffy stretched against Giles’ body, loving the sharp feel of his muscles, the warmth of his cock against her belly. She let him bring her hips in line with his and gasped as the tip of his cock rubbed against her clit. He moved between the lips of her pussy, slowly grinding, becoming more slippery as he moved. She tilted her hips further, and he slowly entered her.

She rocked back and forth, grinding down inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her. He stilled her moving hips with a touch, moaning, “Wait, Buffy, just there . . .” and then, when she’d quieted above him, arched into her with all the strength he possessed. She cried out, hips driving against him, feeling almost split in two.

“Giles, do that again!” she cried, bracing her hands on his chest, sitting up and feeling him move deeper inside her as she did so. Obediently, he thrust up again, impossibly hard, and she felt her body contract around him. She threw her head back, crying out wordless noises, and rocked in time to meet his next thrust. His fingers dug into her skin, pulling her harder against him, rocking them back and forth, as she ground into him from above. She felt her orgasm rise up like a tide, cresting at every thrust.

He was shocked at her beauty. The moaning, panting woman above him was alive with need, hands clenching on his chest, eyes boring into his until another thrust bent her head back again. She felt like melted steel in his arms, pliable and burning. He wanted to go on forever, endlessly moving beneath her, watching as her face distorted with passion, as she began to chant his name. He arched again and felt her juices run between them, her pussy clenching around his cock as she came for him.

Watching her shudder above him, her body still moving, her mouth open in a soundless scream, his own orgasm tore through him like quicksilver. He drove into her once more, crying out as he came, pulling her down in a fierce kiss as his body pumped into hers.

They lay together, panting.

When Buffy regained the power of speech, she reached out to stroke the check of her Watcher. “Giles, that was . . . everything.”

A tired but joyful smile crossed his face as he rolled onto his side to face her. “Trust me, love,” he began earnestly, “that was amazing, but there’s so much more . . .” He was interrupted by a yawn.

She laughed and pulled him so his head was pillowed on her breasts. “Well, mister ‘so much more,’ if that happens to include a blanket, I’m not gonna protest. I hope it doesn’t hurt your feelings, but I don’t think I’m up for anything more strenuous than getting under the covers tonight.”

He laughed and pulled her closer, snuggling against her body, and then grabbed the duvet and threw it over them both. “You know I can’t argue with you, particularly when you’re right. However, in the morning . . . “

Buffy grinned through a yawn of her own, “Giles, morning is a completely different kettle of fish.”

“Indeed.”

Buffy put her cheek against the top of his head and closed her eyes. “G’night, Giles.”

“Sweet dreams, Buffy, my dear one.”

She smiled into his hair. “Sweet dreams, Giles.”

~ the end ~

********************

The challenge:

Set during 'Harsh Light of Day.' Some how Giles learns of Parker's reputation (maybe Willow or Oz hears something and mentions it to him). Giles finds Buffy before she kisses Parker. Giles kisses her in front of Parker after telling her that he would explain later.
Optional: Buffy saying something like 'not really old and definitely not gross.'
Where it goes from there is up to you. This is just a plot bunny that I don't have time to feed myself.

dare you

2004-08-02T22:18:00.000-07:00

Pairing: B/G (a tiny bit of B/R at the beginning)

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Buffy needs a study partner who can actually help her pass tests. What happens when the finals are over, though? Written in response to PhenDog's Fabulous Finals Challenge (will be included at the end of the story)

Timeline/Spoilers: 4th season, the morning after “A New Man”. Although I screwed with the time-line a little, so Buffy is in her second semester at college.

Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. Plot lines aren’t even really mine. All hail the mighty and benevolent Joss for making it all possible.

Distribution: www.buffygiles/efiction.com & yahoo groups. Okay anywhere else. Just tell me where it is so I can revel in the idea that someone other than me might be reading what I wrote.

Feedback: Welcomed and appreciated.

Date: 6/8/2004

Notes: - -Thoughts- - * Emphasis *
To my late night betas, the readers who made this story coherent, Rainne, Linda & ElizaBuffy: you are eagle-eyed and I thank you.

Chapter I

There was absolutely no justice in the universe. Which is why Buffy found herself at an 8 a.m. psych final, sitting next to a frighteningly perky Willow, hoping against hope that some demon would break through the windows at the back of the room looking for slayage. She was almost hoping for something hideous and spiny to rear its ugly head and roar at her frightened classmates; that she could handle. Heck, she thought, maybe if Maggie Walsh saw her actually slay something she’d have more faith in Slayers. She looked over at Riley and tried to smile; he looked cute, trying to be encouraging, but her current predicament was partially his fault. Besides, his smile wasn’t going to help her fill a blue book with enough text to pass, particularly because she’d truly meant to study at some point in the last three weeks, but it just hadn’t happened.

It wasn’t right; studying was supposed to be done in the dark hours between midnight and six a.m. giving you enough time to cram it into your head, but not enough time to forget it. She’d learned enough about college in the last couple of months to know peak brain times were in the dead of night. Instead of studying, she had to be out there slaying. When she wasn’t on patrol, she was hanging out with Riley, and whenever she tried to crack the books, he did something to distract her. She wasn’t about to open a book to study during the day. She was sure she’d heard someone in the cafeteria say something about your retention powers in daylight; they were at like 50% of norm. Besides, it was just unnatural to crack books in the middle of the afternoon.

Stupid Ethan Rayne. She should’ve hurt him – more than she already had – when she’d had the chance. Besides wreaking havoc on Giles, he was screwing with her grade point average! She’d truly meant to study last night, but instead she’d practically killed Giles. Poor Giles! She squirmed in her seat again at the close call. And why did Ethan always pick on her and her friends? Didn’t he have anything better to do? She hoped wherever they stuck him was a cold, unfriendly, icky magic-less prison. It was what he deserved. Especially for attacking Giles.

She was still in shock about that. She couldn’t believe she didn’t realize more quickly that the Fyarl demon was, in fact, Giles. Maybe she should just quit college and start learning demon languages, in case it ever happened again. At least then, she’d understand the growls. Maybe Giles would teach her. . . stranger things had happened. He was a much better teacher than any other person from whom she’d learned – except maybe for Willow – that woman was a total teaching fiend. Maybe she could just go to the “School of Giles and Willow”, and then she’d never have to worry about tests again.

Although, come to think of it, Willow was kind of test happy. She remembered Willow catching her up to speed after her expulsion in high school; Willow’s quizzes were way harder than the actual tests. And Giles was always coming up with those pesky little challenges which she was supposed to rise to. That would never work. Damn. Another brilliant Buffy idea down the drain.

Okay, focus, focus, focus. Next question:

20. Which theory suggests that altruistic behavior is governed by calculations of rewards and costs? Give an example of this type of behavior.

Oh god – how was she going to write a paragraph about this one? Did slaying vampires for cookies count?

Somehow, she thought not.

Chapter II

Willow looked over at Buffy’s frowning expression and the blank page of her test booklet, and then back at her own test. She was going to need another book to write in. She could go on and on about every single answer. It helped that Maggie Walsh was so exacting. It challenged her in ways that high school hadn’t bothered with. Who knew essay tests could be so much fun?

It was too bad for Buffy, though. She knew Buffy hadn’t studied. The last time Willow had talked to her about going to the library, Buff had muttered something about not being able to retain information in daylight. Willow knew from that moment on, there was really no convincing her. Buffy would have to come around on her own to the whole studying thing. She wondered if she could convince Giles to talk to her. Maybe he could get through where a friend and roommate couldn’t. Especially since Buffy seemed determined now to stop neglecting him. Finally. She was so tired of reminding Buffy he was around.

This morning, over pre-test coffees, Buffy had pledged to actually make time for her Watcher. She looked so contrite over the rim of her mug; Willow hadn’t had the heart to chastise her about it anymore. Anyway, if Buffy said she was going to do something, she’d do it. Willow only hoped it would lessen the constant Riley-induced vagueness. Willow was all for smoochies and stuff, but – and she’d only admit this to herself – Buffy was getting just a little obnoxious about her boyfriend. It wasn’t just that Willow had lost her own boyfriend; she was getting a little tired of being supportive friend. It wasn’t that Riley was so bad. He did fit the college boy image pretty well, except for the whole urban commando thing, but he was never really going to keep up with Buffy. Even Xander had seen that. At least he was better than Parker was.

Oops! She only had another 15 minutes to finish the last question! Moreover, she’d barely filled out half the pages in her book. If she didn’t start writing now, all the studying goodness would have gone down the drain. There’s no way she was going to let that happen. She had personal standards to maintain, after all!

Chapter III

“I so totally flunked that test; there’s no way I’m going to pass this class,” a tired and thwarted Buffy complained to Willow after they’d handed in their tests. “I thought Psyche 101-B was supposed to be easier than 101! Willow, I’m never going to listen to you again about picking classes.”

“Buffy, it was easier than Psyche 101. Maybe next time you should open the book before you sit down to take the test,” replied a slightly defensive Willow. “You know, that whole thing they call studying? It can actually happen for you, too.”

“I know, I know. It’s just that this whole year, there hasn’t been time for the whole school/study type thing, and being in another class with Riley as the TA hasn’t helped. Every time we start to study, we kind of get distracted.” Buffy’s face broke into a slightly silly grin. Then she frowned, “I didn’t have these problems in high school when I got distracted by Angel. Will, I just had a horrible thought: do you think I’m getting dumber as I’m getting older? Maybe my brains are leaking out every time I get hit on the head by a vampire!”

“Buffy, does Giles get any dumber when he gets hit? I think not. You know the reason why you did better in high school was that you actually used to study for tests. I remember a certain Watcher who used to quiz you on patrol.” Willow said with a ‘not-so-subtle hint’ tone of voice.

Buffy brightened, “Will! you’re a genius! I solve my hanging out with Giles agenda, and get the benefits of his brain! This is perfect. All I have to do is convince him to patrol with me again. Do you think he’ll do it?” She got a warm feeling in her stomach at the thought. Finally, an excuse to hang out with her Watcher which she didn’t have to feel guilty about. She only hoped he wouldn’t be able to say no to this, or tell her she needed to do it on her own.

“Buffy, in case you hadn’t noticed, our British gentleman of leisure has plenty of time on his hands. I think he’d totally go for it.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, you brilliant academienne you!” Buffy gushed, and spontaneously hugged her red-haired friend.

“If you’re handing out hugs,” a male voice from behind Buffy and Willow started, “I’d like to get in line.” Riley walked up as Buffy turned and stepped into his waiting arms. “What’s all the hugging about?”

“Willow came up with the world’s best way to fix my sad studying habits; I’m going to ask Giles to dust off our exciting slaying & studying combo from high school,” Buffy gushed happily.

“Giles? What can he do?” Riley said with a frown. “I can help you study. That’s what boyfriends are for, right? Especially upperclassmen.”

Buffy smacked him on the stomach. “Riley, seriously, when was the last time we actually studied? Besides, there’s no way I’m going to pass Psych 101-B. If I flunk the rest of my finals this week, I won’t be able to stay in college. Other than Willow, Giles is the best tutor on the planet. He’s one of the smartest people I know. . . and he’s handy with swords and chainsaws so he can help me while I’m on patrol.”

Riley bristled. Buffy wasn’t sure if he looked like he was going to say something about her not needing to patrol anymore, or make mention of a chainsaw wielding Giles, but she hoped he would do neither.

They’d already had a couple of mini-fights about patrolling. Riley seemed to think that she needed to either be a part of the commando team, or not out in the night at all. Buffy had countered with the fact that slaying was in her blood. Furthermore, Maggie Walsh wouldn’t even let her into the complex, much less on the team. Riley kept telling her it was just going to take some time, and that she needed to stay under the radar until he could convince his commanding officer. But Buffy wasn’t going to stop patrolling just because her boyfriend told her to, no matter how cute and distracting he tried to be. It was beginning to be a little bit of a sticky subject. Then, last night, after they’d rescued Giles, Riley had started asking questions about their relationship and not really understanding her answers.

Buffy ignored the look on his face, not wanting to get into discussion about it again, and started to think about running over to Giles’ apartment to ask if he’d patrol with her tonight.

Chapter IV

Surprise. Complete and utter surprise. That was the expression that greeted Buffy’s study request. It was as if she’d suddenly switched to another language. Here he was, putting his apartment back together after the damage he’d done as a Fyarl demon, and she’d wandered in the door and asked him to help her study. Stranger things had happened in his life – recently, even – but it still caught him off guard.

Once it really sank in that his Slayer was asking him to spend time with her, he couldn’t control the grin that threatened to break out. It didn’t help that she was standing in front of him with those gigantic puppy-dog eyes that she only used when she thought she could get away with it. Her winsome expression had always made him want to laugh at her, just a little, because he could see right through it.

“You know I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that,” he groused, trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile.

“That’s precisely why I only use it on special occasions, Giles.” Buffy grinned triumphantly, “But this qualifies as an emergency, and you’re the only one who can take on the tough and dirty jobs like these!” She knew she’d gotten her way as soon as he started speaking. She could always tell when he was going to give in, because the smile reached his eyes before he opened his mouth. It was strangely good to be around the man she could read like a book – even if he could read her too.

“So, what subjects do we need to review? I know you had a final this morning, but how many more do you have?” asked her newly appointed teacher.

“Ummm . . . Philosophy’s on Tuesday, Dionysus & Ritual and Conceptual Physics are on Friday. That means we have one day to cover a couple hundred years of theory, and then another day to help me figure out Ovid and some other Greeks, and a bunch of math. Think you can handle it?” she challenged.

“Dionysus & Ritual? What are they teaching in that college? And am I to presume you haven’t done a stitch of reading?” Giles asked.

“I’ve skimmed!” defended Buffy.

“Did you attend classes, at least? Perhaps some knowledge crept in through lecture?” He returned.

“Yes, Giles,” Buffy rolled her eyes, “some knowledge definitely stole its way into my brain. C’mon – you can’t think that badly of me. I was mostly a good student in high school! And I’ve really only missed a couple of classes this entire semester. It’s just the whole ‘cracking the books’ thing that I don’t have the hang of, which is why major reinforcements like you are called for. Meet you at Restfield Cemetery at sundown?”

“You bring the books, I’ll bring the coffee,” Giles replied.

“Great! Just like old times. Did I tell you how much I appreciate this? If I haven’t yet – Giles, I really, really, really appreciate this. You’re the best Watcher a Slayer could have.”

She knew she wasn’t really supposed to, but she hugged him in thanks, and was pleasantly surprised at the strength of his returned hug. It made her stomach flutter. Oh well, it was probably just pre-test nerves. At least she’d be armed with Giles-instilled knowledge to counteract them.

Chapter V

She backhanded him, and then spun and kicked him against the gravestone. He flailed against it for a second, and then rebounded to launch a punch at her face. She caught his hand and slammed Mr. Pointy into his chest. After brushing the vampire dust off her shoulder, she turned to answer Giles, who was perched on another handy gravestone, in jeans and a t-shirt with a book open on his lap. “Immanuel Kant was . . . isn’t he the one that declared God was dead?”

Giles sighed. This was indeed, going to be a very long night. “No Buffy, that was Nietzsche. Kant said almost the exact opposite. The existence of God was, for Kant, but one of three postulates of morality, the other two being freedom of the will, and immortality of the soul. You know, you might want to remember him. His Critique of Pure Reason is a very interesting read.”

Buffy started to pout while trying to think up a sarcastic response, but saw a vampire sneaking behind Giles, trying to grab him. With a cry of “Duck!” she leapt over a gravestone to push Giles to the ground. They both hit with a thud, the vampire looming over them. Buffy kicked out and watched her foot connect with the newly risen vamp. With a satisfying thud, he slammed into one arm of a wooden cross sticking out of a handy gravestone and exploded.

“That’ll teach them to sneak up on my Watcher. I wonder if he’s finding out just how non-immortal he was? So much for his vaunted freedom of will.” Buffy grinned down and saw the laugh bubble up from the depths of his eyes.

“I don’t think that’s quite what Kant was thinking of, Buffy. But if that’s what it takes for you to remember his theories, I’m a happy man.” He smiled up at her, knowing this was one question she’d probably get right. The combination of physical and mental had always worked best for Buffy. It was so pleasant to just look at her smiling down at him that at first he didn’t realize she was still lying with her body covering his. Then he noticed…quite a bit. He only hoped she didn’t. He’d gotten adept over the years at covering for these minor tell-tales of his body reacting to hers. Buffy only continued to grin at him and, after a second, stood up and offered him her hand.

“Sorry about that Giles. I didn’t see him moving until he was almost at your back.”

“Thank you for getting me out of the way of his teeth, Buffy. I should have been more aware. Luckily, I have a handy guardian to make sure my back’s covered.”

As they stood and smiled at each other, Buffy realized she’d just pushed Giles out of the way and saved him and there was no awkwardness. It was so refreshing to not have the awkward. Every time she tried to convince Riley that she was pushing him down for his protection, he got all defensive. She realized that Giles had always welcomed her protection. Somehow, that seemed right; after all, she was the stronger one. He could handle himself in a fight, she knew that, but he trusted her instincts, too. She heard a noise behind her and turned to find Riley with his hands on his hips.

“Studying, huh? Is this how you study?” He looked confused and a little hurt. “I come out here and check to make sure you’re doing okay and find you in the middle of a cemetery lying on your ‘tutor’?”

“Riley? What’s the big? A vampire can’t be staked in this town without you following it?” Buffy returned; a little confused at the accusation in her boyfriend’s tone. Giles stood behind her, silently wondering what on earth Buffy had said to Riley to make him jealous of . . . him.

‘”I thought you could use some help and came out to find you. There seemed to be a lot of vampire activity tonight and I didn’t want you to be alone.”

”Hello? Riley? Not alone here. Giles is here.” Buffy stuck her thumb behind her, very conscious of the supportive bulk of her Watcher’s body behind her. “Besides, I’m the Slayer, remember? The one that’s been killing vampires for years before you came along. I think I can handle a couple of vamps.”

“So sue me for worrying about you. I thought we agreed you weren’t going to go out patrolling by yourself anymore!” Riley returned.

As Buffy looked at him in shock, Giles broke in from behind her shoulder, “Buffy, maybe we should call it a night. You and Riley don’t need me here for this conversation.” Buffy twisted her head to look at him.

“No. Giles, I really need to study if I’m going to pass this final. I can’t even tell one philosopher from another at this point. I need your help. Besides, Riley and I had this same conversation two nights ago, and apparently, he didn’t listen to me then. I don’t think having a repeat will change that.” She turned back to Riley, “Riley, WE didn’t agree on anything. I’m going to say this once more, and if you don’t listen, we may not have anything more to talk about, ever. I’m the SLAYER. I learned a long time ago that my job comes with responsibilities. I’m not just going to abandon them because you think it’s best. I will go out on patrol until I’m physically incapable of doing so. I don’t need your squad to do my job.”

She went on, “Let me demonstrate: raise your hand if you’ve saved the world at least once.”

She raised her hand, and continued. “Raise your hand if you’ve *helped* save the world more than once. This means you Giles.” She kept her arm in the air as she felt Giles bring up his hand. He felt silly, but understood the point she was trying to make. He wondered how Riley could have been so blind about Buffy.

She glared at the now chagrined Riley. “All those with hands at their sides, leave!” He looked at her, mouth slightly open in shock. Then her words sank in, and his mouth audibly snapped shut.

He returned an angry mutter, “Fine then, just stay out here and ‘study’ with your ‘Watcher’. You two can defend the world from darkness without me. See if I care!” He about-faced, and walked into the darkness.

Chapter VI

“Coffee?” The tentative question from her Watcher made Buffy sigh. They’d watched Riley leave and canvassed the rest of the cemetery in silence. Now, approaching Sunnydale Cemetery, she realized she was going to have to say something about her relationship, or non-relationship. She felt oddly relieved that she’d had another fight with Riley, and that it kind of seemed like it might be their last. Maybe talking through it all would help. At least it was Giles. He’d understand.

“Sure,” she smiled up at Giles again. They stopped at a handy bench and he began to pour from the thermos he carried on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I blew up at Riley in front of you Giles. I can’t seem to convince him that I can actually handle patrolling, even though I was killing vampires before he was in training. It’s weird; he knows that I can take him down. Last night he even said he liked me being strong, but he’s convinced I shouldn’t be out in the cemeteries. It’s like he’s got two mutually contradictory theories about who I am.”

“I wish I could say something comforting Buffy, but Riley’s acting like a pillock. He knows you’re the Slayer. He has to accept that. This is what you do.” Giles tried to stop the words from coming out, but couldn’t seem to help himself. “He should understand.”

Buffy looked up at him gratefully, “See! You get it.” She sighed again. “That’s the problem, though. He should understand, but he doesn’t. Did you know that, other than Maggie Walsh, there aren’t any other women in the commandos? Apparently, they’re not considered strong enough to fight demons. That’s what Riley told me. He keeps trying to lump me in with the rest of the world like I was a normal girl or something, but I’m not. I’m me.”

“You’re right Buffy. You’re not an ordinary woman, and you shouldn’t be treated like one. Riley should respect your decisions. The fact that he fails to do so is his fault, not yours.”

“I know. It’s just stupid, though. I feel like my diary’s this running baseball metaphor. Buffy strikes out with man again. Oh well.”

Then she frowned. “Hey Giles, what’s a pillock?”

Giles ducked his head and blushed slightly, while removing his glasses to clean them, “Probably a piece of knowledge you’ll never need.”

He paused, smiled a bit grimly, and then went on, “Suffice it to say that it sounds like Riley is not going to be supportive of your slaying, and it’s probably wiser to find someone who will. Although I don’t understand his jealousy. What have you been telling him about me?”

Now it was Buffy’s turn to blush a little. “Nothing, really. He was just confused why I was so worried about you last night. So I tried to explain about us. You know, that you’re my Watcher. And that you’re the smartest man I know. The only guy that hasn’t left me, the only guy that’s been there for me since high school.” Whoops! She hadn’t meant to say all that. Then again, maybe it was good for Giles to hear this stuff. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.

Giles was a little stunned. After weeks of feeling he like was the least-needed Watcher on the planet, he was being told he was the only faithful man around. He was immensely flattered, and suddenly aware that the woman beside him was regarding him with bated breath. Did Buffy suddenly care about his reaction? Maybe . . .

He smiled back at her. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about me. Thank you. I’ve tried to make sure you know how special you are; that you always had my support. But sometimes I felt like I was shouting into the darkness.”

Buffy sighed, despite the warm glow that started in her stomach at his words. “I know Giles, I’ve been non-hearing girl, but I promise, I’m hearing now! You should know that you’re absolutely appreciated by this Slayer. For more than just your chainsaw wielding skills, although, those come in handy from time to time, too.”

Giles put his glasses back on, and looked into the teasing eyes of his Slayer. “Well, now that that’s taken care of, what about telling me everything you know about Socrates? We’ll do one more review of everything and I think we can call it a night.”

“It’s a deal, Watcher-mine.”

Chapter VII

With a sigh, Buffy closed her door on the dawn. Now that she was on her way to her last final, she could admit to herself that she was kind of sad she didn’t have more to study for. The last three days, with the exception of Riley’s appearance, and the fact that she’d had to break up with him, had been . . . well, since she was just thinking it to herself, the last three days had been practically perfect. Even the prospect of barely passing her finals didn’t really scare her. Her “Study With Giles” plan had been great. She could almost thank Ethan for jogging her out of her Giles deprivation phase.

She had enough time to shower, change, and grab a cup of coffee before her physics final. She grabbed her towel and ran to the shower, mentally reviewing the last couple of hours. There hadn’t been very much activity last night, so she and Giles had uninterrupted study time. It was like the vampires were letting her get on with the serious business at hand. The studying was good, too. He knew exactly how to phrase things so that she’d remember them later. His voice seemed to stick in her head. Besides, praise from him made her glow.

Now that she was washing the thin layer of vampire dust from her hair, she could admit to herself it didn’t hurt that she’d started flirting with him. She giggled to herself in the shower. Yep, Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, had started flirting with her Watcher. She couldn’t seem to help herself. Ever since he’d told her Riley was a pillock, she realized something: Riley really was a pillock. And there was a guy in her life that wasn’t. He happed to be amazing at all kinds of things she wasn’t, and helpful with the studying, too. When he told her she was special, that first study night, something ineffable had clicked inside her brain. It was as though, in that moment of indrawn breath, she’d seen him, not just as an older guy who thought she was amazing, but as this attractive *man* who thought she was amazing.

The other crazy thing was that he’d actually begun to flirt back. After a couple blushing rejoinders, he’d kind of gotten over his shyness and actually seemed to enjoy teasing her. It made her grin just to think about it. It did weird fluttery things to her insides, too. She had no idea what was going on, other than a fervent wish that whatever it was didn’t stop happening. If she had anything to do with it, it wouldn’t.

* * * * * * * *

With a sigh, Giles closed his door on the dawn. The last three evenings, with the exception of Riley’s visit, had been some of the most pleasant in his recent memory. He could almost thank Ethan for his brush with death at the hands of his Slayer. After their talk on the first night she was almost coquettish with him, and they’d bantered, studied, and stuck wood in vampires in companionable fashion.

In fact, it made him miss University. Helping Buffy study for finals was almost as frantic as researching for demons, but he liked remembering theologians instead of demons. He wondered again if it was possible to get a job with the University. Then he could indulge himself in non-required research and call it work. Perhaps he’d have to look into it, once he found out Buffy’s test results. At least he could help her study next semester, if nothing else.

He marveled again at her attitude during the last several days. The night after her fight with Riley, she’d seemed tired and a little sad. Apparently, the solider hadn’t taken her comments seriously in the light of day, and she’d broken up with him for good. Giles couldn’t help the warm twinge at the thought of the blond commando’s crestfallen face. Served the idiot right. If he couldn’t handle a beautiful, intelligent, *strong* woman, he didn’t deserve her. Moreover, Buffy didn’t need the armed forces behind her. She’d always done supremely well by herself. When they’d talked about it again, he’d told her that. She’d reminded him that she hadn’t quite done it all on her own, giving him a sly look out of the corner of her eye that made him blush; he couldn’t seem to stop doing it, actually.

But the next night, last night, she’d seemed back to her old pertness. Now that he was alone with his thoughts and he could admit it to himself, she was absolutely adorable last night. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d been flirting with him. It made his secret hope flare in his heart. Every time he really let himself believe Buffy might truly be flirting with him on purpose, his emotions surged wildly. But flirting was such a tenuous sliver of hope to go on. He’d just have to wait and see what happened after her finals.

Chapter VIII

Arms wrapped around each other for support, Buffy and Willow safely made their way across campus from the post-finals “Dusk-Till-Dawn” party at Stevenson. “Wills, there are now officially three things I love about finals week,” slurred a giggly and slightly tipsy Buffy as she and her best friend hobbled to their dorm room. “Pre-final Giles study and slay time, post-finals party, and lemon drops.” A new thought came to her. “You know, the only thing that could make it better is if they could be smooshed together: vodka, philosophy, Giles, and good music.”

Willow giggled, then looked speculatively at her girlfriend. She’d been conscious of the fact that Buffy’s breakup from Riley didn’t require the usual post-boyfriend rituals. There were no trips to the Espresso Pump, no late night runs for ice cream. She’d wondered about that, thinking it was just because Buffy had finally broken up with one of her boyfriends, instead of having them break up with her.

But, she’d noticed how often Giles had come up in conversation since then. Almost as if . . . Willow wondered if Buffy realized how much she’d thought about her Watcher this week. Buffy had been talking and thinking about Giles with every breath that wasn’t focused on finals. As a woman who hoped her best friend would someday finally be happy, Willow couldn’t be more pleased. She’d long ago moved her own crush on Giles into the realm of sixteen-year-old fantasy, and had realized after Angel left that there might be something to this Slayer/Watcher thing that Buffy hadn’t considered, although she’d be willing to bet Giles had it on the brain. She’d seen the way he sometimes watched Buffy when he thought no one was looking.

Her mischievous side got the best of her and she decided that it wouldn’t hurt to give Buffy a little nudge. “You know, we could always call Giles and tell him to come celebrate with us. The night is young, and so are we. Besides, I bet he’s tired of studying just as much as we are.” Buffy stared at Willow in shock, and then hugged her tight enough pop her bones.

“Will, you are the bestest friend a girl could have! And the most brilliant person on the planet. Have I told you that this week? No? Let me tell you again!” She was simultaneously excited and scared. Those pesky finals butterflies instantly erupted in her stomach. Then a thought struck her, “But, Willow, what if he won’t come celebrate? What if he’s busy? I took all of his time this week making him study with me . . . do you really think he’ll come over?’

Will looked at her friend, shook her head at the incredible insecurity, and then picked up the phone and handed it over. “Just call him, Buff.”

Suddenly shy, Buffy looked at the phone in her hand and turned back to Willow, “What should I say?” she questioned.

“Buffy, this isn’t brain surgery. It isn’t even an exam. Giles is your friend. Just tell him we’re going to hang out here and have a post-final mini party, and he’s invited as a thank you for all the help. And stop worrying!” an exasperated Willow encouraged. At this rate, she’d never get any peace.

A hesitant Buffy dialed his number, hoping he’d pick up, and realizing how silly she was being. This was Giles! She’d bled on his couch more times than she could count. She’d known him since she was 16 years old. She should be able to call him up and invite him over without all of these giddy feelings. Somehow, though, they didn’t go away. Then his voice came over the line, rich and deep and slightly rumbly, as if he had been reading and hadn’t spoken in a while. “Hello?”

She shook herself, realizing she’d daydreamed just at the sound of his voice. “Giles? What are you doing tonight? We’re, um, we’re giving thanks to the fact that finals are all over, I mean, until next semester, and we, um, I – um, would you like to come over and celebrate with us? There’ll be lemon drop making – have you ever had one?” All of her flirty nature of the last two nights had evaporated (or maybe the stomach butterflies had eaten away her flirting powers?) and she felt incredibly young waiting for his answer.

“Buffy? I haven’t had lemon drops in years. Sickeningly sweet things, if I remember correctly, I don’t really know if you’d want your Watcher at a party. Remember your birthday?” Giles shuddered at the prospect of another evening of feeling far too old, but Buffy broke through his private thoughts.

“But, Giles, you made my celebration possible! Willow and you. Besides if it’s just Will and me it’s not much of a party. We need a third – someone to pour.” Buffy knew she had to find some reason to make him say yes. Battling against the fierce swarms of stomach fluttering, and promising her brain it would have a lot more space-out fodder if Giles were actually in the room instead of just hearing his sultry voice (when had his voice become sultry? She had no idea, but it definitely was), she played her trump card. “You know, if you don’t want to come over, we can always just bring the party to you. . . ”

Willow saw her chance to opt out, and started shaking her head and waving her hands at Buffy, who was too intent on Giles’ response to notice her friend backing out of the proposed evening outing.

Giles was caught between hope and dread. It wasn’t every day that his Slayer asked him to celebrate things with her. He’d realized before she’d asked him to study with her they’d been in great danger of seeing each other only during crises times. He didn’t want that to happen again. Here she was offering to share a part of her life in a way she hadn’t done before. Besides, he’d earned it, hadn’t he?

- -He’s taking too long- -, Buffy was sure he was thinking his way out of this, and she wasn’t going to let him. Now that the initial offer was out there, she was determined to make him accept it, one way or another. She was the Slayer, after all! She could make an executive decision if she had to. “Don’t worry Giles; you don’t have to move a muscle. It’ll be better to be off campus, anyway! We’ll see you in 15 minutes. And we’ll bring the lemon drops!” Before he had time to protest, she clicked the phone off and grabbed her jacket and a stake. That was when she noticed Willow was sitting on the bed.

“Willow? Grab your coat! We’re going to Giles’!”

Willow looked at her girlfriend with a little smile to herself and said, “You go ahead Buffy. The alcohol’s starting to wear off, and I’m really tired. Besides, you don’t need a third wheel. Go hang out with Giles and toast one for me.”

“Are you sure? Now’s your chance to get Giles relaxed and ask him all those awkward magic questions you’ve been wanting answered.”

“No, I’m sleepy. You ask Giles for me, okay? That way my goal gets covered and I get happy dream-time too.”

“As long as you’re positive. . . “ At Willow’s emphatic nod, she opened the door, “okay. I’ll see you later. Sweet dreams.”

Willow murmured after her roommate left, “Don’t worry, Buffy, I won’t wait up.”

Chapter IX

She stood outside his apartment, bottle of vodka and bag of lemons in her hand, imagining the scene inside; Giles was probably in his favorite chair, mug of tea beside him. Glasses were probably beside the teacup, and a book was on his lap. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to interrupt, but she couldn’t go home. She took a deep breath, told her stomach to settle down, and grabbed the door handle.

Giles, contrary to Buffy’s imagination, had paced restlessly around the flat since her call. He felt giddy. Buffy and Willow were coming over and suddenly he wasn’t sure if the jeans and charcoal sweater he had on were suitable. Should he change? He looked around his apartment, for the first time feeling like it was too adult. He felt like he should have posters up…or something, anything to encourage college girls to stay. His eyes caught the stereo and he pulled some music out to make it seem more like a celebration. Just as he’d turned the sound up to a semi-audible level, he felt an odd presence, as if someone was standing outside his front door. Strange, Buffy usually had no problem walking through his door. He started toward the peephole.

Buffy’s nervous charge through the door slammed in to a startled Giles’ forehead. He rocked back. His feet tangled with the edge of the door, Buffy’s feet tangled with his, and they fell together in a pile. The bag of groceries spun on the ground, scattering lemons everywhere. Buffy took one look at the lemons, the door, and his crooked glasses and began to giggle. Giles blinked at the woman who’d fallen across his lap, and felt a laugh rumble its way out of his chest. They chuckled companionably, neither really wanting to get up. Giles loved the sight of a laughing Buffy, especially when she was practically sitting on him. Buffy’s stomach was quiet, but there were other things getting tight and warm watching her Watcher grin sexily below her. Neither had the courage to say anything, instead, they simultaneously hopped up and began to pick up lemons, still smiling at each other over their shoulders.

Giles looked around, “Buffy? Where is Willow? I thought you were both coming over to celebrate?”

She turned to him, lemon in hand, and smiled again, “Willow decided the lemon drops had already had taken their toll, so she’s probably riding the dream train, even now. I’m under orders to make you do shots and spill about every magical thing she’s not supposed to know.” She felt a little shy all of a sudden, “It’s okay that it’s just me, right?”

Another one of those sexy and slightly shy smiles lit his face. “Absolutely.” Buffy’s knees felt a little weak all of a sudden. - -Okay, get a grip. You need lemons and sugar! Cutting stuff will make this easier.- - She walked into the kitchen to grab a cutting board and the rest of the supplies.

“So, when was the last time you consumed these?” she asked, figuring it was a safe topic (or at least one that would let her keep her attention focused on the task at hand).

Giles looked at the woman in his kitchen, leaned against the pass-through so he could watch her cut, and tried to remember the last time he’d done shots. “Probably some point with Ethan.” He shuddered. “But lemon drops . . . . Hmmm. . . you know, I’m not quite sure. I think it may have been one of those nasty initiation things I did when I first went to University. Although, the version you’re making there seems a little different than the one I remember. Don’t you need Triple Sec?”

Buffy looked at the lemon in her hands and then back at her Watcher. “Um, Giles, I’m non-drinking girl remember? Me and alcohol have been traditionally un-mixy things. Cave Buffy ring any bells? So, considering my relative inexperience, I’m making them the way they were taught to me by the venerable upperclassman at Stevenson . . . whose name I can’t seem to remember right now.” Giles felt a surge of jealousy at her mention of some senior trying to get her drunk, but then a little happy rush at the fact she couldn’t remember his name. Buffy continued reeling off the recipe, suiting action to her words. “Take one lemon. Cut into slices. Dip lemon in sugar. Pour shot. Then there’s this whole coordination thing, with sucking on the lemon and drinking, but I’m not going to get to that part until I get another shot poured. Don’t you have more than one shot glass?” She started rifling through cupboards.

“Yes, of course. Look in the other cupboard; that one only has tea things. Just how many of these shots do I need to do, Miss Summers?”

“Well, Mr. Giles, I think you need to at least catch up with me. That means you’ve got to have three. Or maybe four? And then there’s the one we have to take together to celebrate the Willow soundly sleeping back at the dorm. And then . . . well, we’ll just see, won’t we?” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Where the heck do you stash your glasses? Do you have a mini-black hole in one of these cabinets?”

He laughed as he walked into the kitchen. She had the correct cupboard open, but couldn’t see the glasses on the top shelf. He came up behind her and reached over her head to take one down. “Poor little Slayer, you completely missed the top shelf didn’t you?” he teased.

Buffy was all too aware of how close Giles remained standing as he taunted her.

She turned around and put her hands on her hips in mock anger, “Hey, that’s not fair! There shouldn’t even be shelves that high. It’s not like normal people can reach them!”

“Don’t worry, if you need anything you can simply ask me and I’ll fetch it for you. Unless you’d like a little step stool?” Giles grinned at her, not wanting to move away, searching for something more to say. He put the shot glass on the counter. “I believe you told me you needed someone to pour the drinks?” and poured the second shot. He handed one to her and raised his own glass with a quirked eyebrow. “What happens next?”

“You take a lemon, dip it in the sugar, then we do the shot and suck on the lemon to kill the taste of vodka.” She suited action to words, surprised to see her hand trembling a little, and dipped her lemon into the bowl of sugar she’d poured.

Giles gingerly took a slice and did the same, then looked at his Slayer standing close to him, shot poised. “What shall we drink to?”

“World peace, of course,” Buffy said cheekily.

Chapter X

“Oh my god! You did that…and you weren’t even under the influence of magic? Or anything evil? Just for a dare?” Buffy giggled at her Watcher from the couch in the living room. The bottle of vodka was slightly depleted (although not enough to qualify either of them as anything more than tipsy; Slayer metabolism and Watcher experience meant each only had a gentle buzz) and sitting on the table in front of them along with a cutting board, sugar bowl, and some very well-used lemons.

Giles chuckled at her from the floor. “No, really, it all seemed to make sense at the time. Running naked around campus at three o’clock in the morning, singing the national anthem at the top of my lungs seemed very logical – at that point.” He looked up at her through his glasses, “Besides, it gave me a reputation. I became quite the popular man on campus after running past the women’s dorms.”

Buffy snorted, but it turned into a choke. Was Giles really implying what she thought? That after seeing him naked, women ran after him? She couldn’t quell the shiver that ran up her spine at the thought of Giles, naked, anywhere. - -Bad brain! Bad! Down!- - She looked back at him and her thoughts scattered . . . she was caught by the way the shadows softened the planes of his face, the way his lips looked when he smiled, the crinkles in his eyes. Unconsciously, she sighed and forgot to think of something to say. She’d promised herself she’d only ogle, but now that he was in front of her she found herself wanting to know how his skin felt. She felt a little reckless and caught herself thinking that she should do something about it instead of just looking.

Giles looked up at the sweetly blushing Buffy and couldn’t believe he’d told her that story. He breathed a sigh of relief that there were no “ew”s in sight. Then he noticed she seemed mesmerized by his face. He wondered what she was thinking. It made him rather self-conscious.

“Buffy? Is there something wrong with my face? Did I spill sugar down my chin with the last shot?” Buffy shook out of her contemplation with a blink.

“Sorry Giles! No, your face is absolutely sugar-free. Just got stuck in thought for a second there. I think it’s time for another shot, don’t you?”

“Of course. We need more lemons though. I’ll be right back.” Giles unfolded himself from the floor and went over to the corner of the room. Although Buffy couldn’t figure out why he was going toward the bookshelf, she certainly enjoyed the view while he went. Comfy jean-clad Giles was definitely her preference for evening entertainment. She snapped out of her reverie again, and grabbed the bottle to pour two more shots.

“Giles? I know you think the sum of human knowledge is found between those musty pages, but I don’t think descriptions of lemons found in books will taste very good, sugar or no sugar. I think there are still some real lemons to be found in the direction of the kitchen.”

Just then, Giles bent to pick something up from the corner just out of her sight, and held a single lemon out towards her. “This one must’ve gotten away from us earlier.”

“Yay, Giles!” Buffy clapped her hands at the introduction of a new citrus to cut up, “I thought we were missing one when we cleaned up. Good eyes.” He gravely dropped it into her waiting hand as she asked, “So, any more good college stories to tell me? Or maybe we should start talking about magic now, so I can make a full report to Willow in the morning.”

She focused on cutting up the lemon, afraid if she looked back up she’d get lost looking at her Watcher again.

Giles watched her cutting another lemon sliver, and wondered what kind of magic story to tell her. Most of his weren’t terribly amusing, and he didn’t want to scare her. Then again, it was pleasant to talk to her about something other than slaying. Come to think of it, the entire night he’d been able talk to her about anything but slaying. It was truly lovely. He realized she’d asked him about himself. He cleared his throat.

“What do you think she’d want to know? What about you? Are you curious about magic? It is a component in our lives, after all.”

“Yeah, I’ve always wondered a lot about it. But I kinda felt like I missed my opportunities to ask you about stuff. Especially since every time we encounter magic it seems to be the *wrong* kind. Do you have any good stories? Ones where people don’t get hurt or anything from spells?”

Giles winced, knowing all too well her associations with magic were, by and large, terrible. He settled down on the floor again, this time on the short side of the coffee table so he was perpendicular to Buffy on the couch. He took off his glasses and began to clean them. “You know, magic can actually be a very nurturing force.”

Although she loved his characteristic eye-wear cleaning, Buffy saw where this was going and headed him off at the pass. “Okay, Giles, I’m gonna interrupt here. You just went completely into ‘lecture mode.’ We absolutely cannot have that, not on a night when we’re supposed to be celebrating.”

She paused in thought. “I know. . . we need a way to talk about fun magic stuff, but something that won’t send you right back into that big brain of yours and leave me behind. I think it might be time for a double shot and - I can’t believe I’m gonna say this - but a game of truth or dare.”

Chapter XI

“Truth or dare, Buffy? It’s been years since I played that; college if I remember correctly. . . ” his voice trailed off. He also remembered only playing truth or dare at University when he and his mates tried to challenge co-eds into getting in trouble. Dares had to be sexual, and the truths were just thinly veiled attempts to get each other hot. He remembered quite liking the game when he was younger, as a kind of college cat and mouse. - -But surely Buffy didn’t want . . . ?- - his head came up at that, and he looked her straight in the eyes. Did she know what she was implying? Particularly as they were the only players.

He caught something indecipherable in her expression, as though she was holding her breath again, waiting for him to answer. He took a deep breath and decided to take the plunge. At worst, he’d tell her more embarrassing stories. The wild feeling he’d had earlier in the kitchen begged him to believe otherwise. He smiled at her, and this time his smile had just a little wickedness in it. What the hell: if she wanted to play truth or dare, they’d play.

“You know, I think I take offense to that. I wasn’t going into ‘lecture mode’. Just for that, I get to go first. Pick up your shot, Miss Summers, and then get ready.” He held his shot glass up in the air and grinned, with eyebrow arched, at his Slayer, who was momentarily speechless. Then she responded to the smile with an impudent grin of her own – and a mental prayer to . . . the happiness gods . . . in the hopes this would work out – and picked up her shot glass.

“What shall we toast to this time?” she asked.

“Hmmm, how about an Irish toast? I think you’ll like this one.” Giles asked, eyes still twinkling.

“May those who love us, love us.
And to those that don't love us, may God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles so we'll know them by their limping.”

Buffy, who’d held the glass to her lips, almost sputtered at the last line. She was totally unprepared for the silly bits at the end. She managed to do her shot in one gulp, and then realized she hadn’t sugared her lemon. As the vodka burned its way down her throat, she grabbed the first slice she could reach and quickly dipped and sucked. Giles was in a similar predicament; both had been too intent on each other to remember the sweet part of their drinks. They looked across the table and simultaneously smiled. Buffy collapsed in giggles at the picture of Giles with a lemon peel making a yellow smile in his mouth.

Giles removed the offending lemon, “I think that’s hardly called for. After all, I’m not laughing at you and you look ridiculous rolling around on my couch with a lemon in your mouth.” He sighed in mock-disappointment. “I suppose we’ll just have to get on with the game then. Buffy, truth or dare.”

Buffy quieted, tucked her legs under her on the couch, and, mostly serious and partially composed, responded, “Truth.”

“Describe your first kiss.”

Deep Slayer breath. Her Watcher knew how to pick questions! “His name was Eric Martin. I was 14, and it was in a game of truth or dare, actually. He was the hottest boy at school, and it was a birthday party. My best friend dared me to kiss him. We were locked in a closet for sixty seconds. It was actually really good compared to other first kisses I’ve heard about. Although we did bonk noses. But his lips were really kind of soft, and I put my hands around his neck, and then he leaned in even further and actually put his tongue against my lips, which felt really weird but good, somehow. I didn’t know what to do with my tongue, but then he backed off and took a deep breath, then kissed me again. I kind of got the idea at that point. I think we ended up being in there for like 5 minutes. I was boy-crazy from that moment onward.” She grinned at the thought, and then realized it was her turn.

She reached down, poured them both another shot, and handed it to him. Giles took his glass automatically, a little surprised to realize he was fiercely jealous of a boy whom he’d never known. He couldn’t help but imagine how soft her lips were, couldn’t help but wonder . . . he mentally shook himself, accepted the lemon from her outstretched hand, and looked at her expectantly for the toast.

“Salut, Giles”, she said, looking directly into his smoldering eyes.

“Salut, Buffy”, he replied, doing the shot and sucking the lemon, but never removing his eyes from hers.

Both put their glasses on the table. Giles leaned up sideways against the couch, put an arm across the cushion and propped his head in his hand. She cleared her throat after the sugar smoothed the bite of the vodka, “Truth or dare Watcher-mine.”

“Truth,” he responded, wishing he had the nerve to ask her to dare him something.

Slightly disappointed that they were still stuck on truth, she had her question ready, “Boxers or briefs?”

He took a deep breath, and Buffy wondered why, since it wasn’t usually a question that was tough for guys. He looked back up at her, that sly flicker in his features. “Well, since we have to tell the truth, neither.”

“Giles!” She looked at him, giggling but just a little scandalized. Nothing? That meant he was sitting here right now in nothing but his jeans! And what about training? She had to ask more: “All the time?”

“Well, usually. Unless I know we’re going to be training or fighting. It’s just . . . something I picked up in college and never really. . . except when I wear tweed,” he finished, trying not to blush, but failing completely.

Chapter XII

Buffy was hopelessly enchanted. And now, she couldn’t keep her mind off of his pants! She never thought a simple question could be so demonic. It made her checking out of his ass earlier when he’d grabbed the lemon even more . . .

Giles interrupted her speculations, “Buffy, your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Ummm.” For some reason she felt like she couldn’t call dare. She had to outwait him. Unless something drastic changed in his nature, he’d never really dare her to do anything . . . fun. So she had to dare him. If only he’d call it. It was the truth or dare waiting game. “Truth.”

Giles smiled up at her with eyes that hinted he understood her hesitation. She felt like he knew exactly what she was thinking. - -Was he doing the mind reading thing again?- -

It might’ve been the vodka, or the feeling that he’d just read her mind, but Giles decided if he had to reveal embarrassing facts about himself, so would his Slayer. His voice quietly rumbled out, “What’s the most sensitive spot on your body?”

She was shocked. Her Watcher had asked her a titillating question with nary a glass-rub, blush, or stutter in sight! And his voice was driving her wild. She was getting hot for her Watcher, the guy leaning against his couch with his leg tucked up, waiting for her response. If he was going to start getting her into trouble with just his voice, she was going to retaliate.

She brushed her hair off her neck and tilted her head to the side, curling her hand down her skin. “The side of my neck, from just behind my ear, all the way to my collarbone.” She felt sultry, looking at him from between her eyelashes. She hid a smile. If he was trying to shock her, he had, but she liked it. She could feel him staring at her and it made her skin hot.

Giles was enthralled, other thoughts forgotten with the revelation of her skin. - -Gods, she’s lovely. I’d like to sink my teeth into her,- - he couldn’t prevent the thoughts from coming. He was going to have to do something more than talk in a second. If she didn’t move soon he was going to throw caution to the winds and simply take what had been so invitingly offered. But Buffy tilted her head back to a normal position, her hair fell, and asked again, “Truth or dare?”

Giles’ attention moved from the half hidden spot on her shoulder back to her face, “Truth.”

“Hmmm.” She wondered aloud. Time to start asking the *good* questions. “What’s your favorite part of sex?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, and decided he quite liked this line of questioning. “Actually, I rather like every part, but if I had to choose. . .” His voice lowered slightly, almost rumbling forth as he looked directly into her eyes. “I love lying beneath a woman and watching her move above me.”

Buffy, caught by his eyes, couldn’t look away but couldn’t help the mental image; Giles beneath her, his eyes looking at her as they were now, watching her ride him. She shivered, suddenly covered with goose bumps but feeling too warm for her own skin.

Chapter XIII

“Buffy?” Giles’ soft voice roused her out of her daydream daze. “Truth or dare?”

She couldn’t give in. . . yet, “Truth.”

He smiled again, this time with a bit of wicked seduction thrown in. He realized he was getting in deeper and deeper, but he wasn’t about to stop. “What’s your wildest fantasy?”

Looking at him, her eyes widened slightly, “Can I have two?”

“You may have as many as you like.”

“Okay. The first – and I know this isn’t particularly wild – I really want to wake up and have sex in the morning.”

Giles instantly sobered. He wanted to get up and take her into his arms, to wipe all memory of those two incredibly, criminally, stupid men out of her eyes. He settled for reaching to cup the side of her face. She shivered, just a little, and leaned her cheek into his hand. He hated the knowledge that gypsy fate and stupid college men could have scarred her. Angel, then the disastrous Parker, they were just . . . “Pillocks.”

The solemn moment broke. She smiled into his eyes and butted her cheek into his hand. “You know, someday you really are going to have to explain that word to me.”

“Someday.” His single word response held a promise that made her glow. Regretfully, he withdrew his hand and settled back on the floor. “And the other?”

Buffy decided to tell him the truth. Maybe it would scare him off, but she didn’t think so. At least she hoped not. “The other . . . um . . . yeah”, she bit her lip, looked with liquid eyes directly into his face. “I have these fantasies of a lover that can hold me down.” Her tongue darted across her lips, and she bit the corner of her mouth. “He likes it that I’m strong, stronger than anybody, but somehow he has the strength to bind me. He makes me lose control with him.“ As she spoke, her eyes closed, and he felt himself moving inexorably closer, drawn by the dream of words she spun around him.

Giles moved onto the couch, unable to take his eyes off her. She was beautiful as she revealed herself to him. His Buffy was showing a side he’d never expected. He was mesmerized by the movement of her lips, by the sound of her fantasy. - -And- - he realized - -I have some chains in my weapons chest upstairs. . .- - He couldn’t keep himself from leaning towards her.

“He pushes my boundaries, binds me with chains I can’t break, and demands I go wild,” she finished, and opened her eyes to meet green ones, dark with desire, inches from her face. Lips a hair’s breadth away from each other, they were stuck in a timeless moment. The furious blush that started with her story turned into a thrumming in her veins. Her breath caught, but she spoke again. “Giles? Truth or dare?”

He didn’t really know what he was saying, but the word came out, whispered against her lips, “Dare.” He wanted so much to kiss her, but something held him back. Buffy looked at him and felt like she was falling, but he didn’t lean any further. She didn’t want him to hold back.

Buffy’s eyes flicked down to lips a breath away from hers, “Dare you.”

He closed the gap between them and she fell into his lips, fell into the rampant green of his eyes, fell into his arms. As his mouth moved over hers, he stole her breath. His hands curved around her waist, burning through the thin material of her top. She leaned into his warmth, wanting to feel more of him against her skin. He ducked his head, and finally put action to thought with his teeth, biting along her neck, down toward her shoulder, making her moan and shudder.

“Dare you,” he whispered into the perfect shell of her ear, moving his hands over her hips, bringing her body closer to his. Her hands grabbed the sides of his head, pulling those velvety lips back to hers. She kissed him wildly, all tongue and teeth, and he drove his own tongue into her mouth.

He stood, pulling her with him, and caught her body in his hands, bringing her hips to grind against his, and barely kept his feet. She broke their deepened kiss with a moan, grasping at the bottom of his shirt, trying to reveal the warm flesh and knotted muscle she knew were waiting. He released her to help, tugging on his clothing. Finally, his shirt moved above his shoulders to fly off in some corner of the room. She ran her hands down his chest, the muscles cording under her touch. She loved the feel of him: so pulsing and alive. He moved back to her neck, unable to resist the blood throbbing there, and bit again, making her growl low.

He grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it up, her arms rising with his, but didn’t pull it off her hands. He kept them imprisoned, bringing them behind her head. Her body stretched and arched against him, her lace-covered breasts pressed against his chest, heaving. She gasped. This was perfect and she loved it, loved the feeling that she couldn’t quite get her hands free. His lips and teeth nipped at her mouth. She struggled a little, brushing her hips over his again and again. He growled, and pressed his lips into her neck, loving the feel of her body but hating the fabric between them.

He let her hands go, and she dropped the shirt. His hands caressed her sides, back and waist, fingers nimble and rough. He pulled at the buttons of her jeans, one at a time, each making a pop that brought a corresponding pant from Buffy’s lips. She couldn’t stop touching him, neck, shoulders, waist. Her hands ran from one point to the other, catching on his nipples until he pulled her back into his body and ground her against her again. His hands smoothly unhooked her bra and tossed it away, then returned to her hips to shove her pants and panties down her legs.

She giggled at the catch in his breathing and the look on his face. “Giles?” He was stunned at the woman who stood, caught with her jeans around her ankles. She was flushed from their kissing, red marks fading on her neck where he’d bitten her, laughter fresh on her face. He grinned at her and grandly offered his hand to help her step out of her clothing, then, when she was free, pulled her back into his embrace. She was like quicksilver in his arms: lithe, beautiful and strong. He bent down and whispered again into her ear, “Dare you.”

She shivered again as his breath on her skin made hers catch. His hands now moved on her bare hips, the rough pads of his fingertips stroking towards her breasts, making her burn hotter for him. She was slowly being consumed by his lips, his hands, and the fire that burned her entire body.

She realized he still had his jeans on, and reached to rip them from him. Only one button broke in her frenzy, but she was able to pull them off and move them down his legs. “Mmmm.” She buried her nose in the hair at the base of his cock, inhaling his truest scent. Her cheek brushed against his cock, and his groan made her body twitch. She settled on her knees and licked him from base to tip, watching his expression and loving every second of it. She’d never wanted anyone like this, wanted to fill her mouth with him, watch him gasp above her. She suited thought to action, and his entire body shuddered. His hands gripped her shoulders, tighter than he’d ever held her, as she buried him in her mouth.

Chapter XIV

“Buffy,” his voice strained above her, growling as her mouth began to move on him. “Buffy . . . I . . .” Her lips were warm, her hands gripped hard on his hips, and he felt consumed by her. It made him weak and wild at the same time. He wanted, no, he needed more than her mouth around him. The sweet torture of her actions warred with the pain of not being able to touch her body.

He pulled his hips backwards and leaned down, bringing her up in a rush. At first, Buffy didn’t want to leave the floor, but then she realized there were other things they could be doing to each other. She shimmied along his body. As she rose, he groaned.

His mouth came crashing down on hers, lips trembling, feasting on her like he was starving. Buffy could feel his entire body pressing up against hers, but this time, without clothing, it just made her more aware of his cock against her stomach and the ache between her thighs. His leg moved between hers as his hands reached for her breasts. She rubbed against him, gasping, and then his fingers moved from her nipples to between her legs. She broke their kiss to moan, “Oh god, Giles!” as he touched her. He moved back to her neck, biting and sucking, and she, lost to the feel of his fingers and teeth, nearly fell over.

Giles caught Buffy as she stumbled and pulled her with him onto the couch. Buffy remembered imagining him beneath her earlier, but this was better than the spine tingling rush she’d felt then. His hair was tousled, his eyes on fire, and both were panting from the feel of skin on skin. She ground herself into his lap and watched him close his eyes and groan.

“Liked that, did you?” she asked, breaking the silence, wanting to hear him.

*Pant* “More than I can express,” he growled, grabbing her hips and grinding her more firmly against his erection. “You?”

She bit her lip at the sensation of him running his cock over her clitoris. It was good but . . . “I’d like it a little better if you were inside me.”

“That can most definitely be arranged, but we need one thing.” Giles lifted her off his body, and Buffy gave a cry of protest. “Don’t worry, love, I just need to get something from the cupboard.” Buffy realized she knew exactly what he was going for and appreciated his thinking of it.

Giles got up and staggered into the bathroom, leaving Buffy panting on the couch admiring the view from behind. She was never going to let him wear underwear again . . . or clothes of any kind, for that matter. She heard something fall and Giles curse and half leaned over the couch to call to the bathroom, “Everything okay in there?”

A naked Giles appeared in the hallway with a packet in his hand, “Fine. The bathroom was trying to kill me.” He looked at her, disheveled, lips kiss swollen, sitting naked on his couch. “It’s okay though, I’d face death of any kind to come back out and see you like this.”

She smiled at him, the 1000-watt smile making him humble. - -What in the nine hells had he done to deserve her?- - It didn’t matter, though. What mattered was this woman in front of him.

Buffy arched an eyebrow at him, “So you just going to stand there, Watcher-mine?” Her voice was a challenge, an invitation, and a claim all at the same time. Giles smiled, a grin of total happiness half-filled with lust. Buffy almost laughed with joy at his expression. He was, indeed, hers and she saw it in his eyes.

“No, I don’t think I will.” He knelt on the floor between her legs and drew her face to his again. As their lips met, he ran his hands over the perfect shape of her breasts. Her skin felt like warm rose petals and he traced their curves over and over, unable to deny himself the feeling of their silky texture. She moaned beneath his lips and rocked them both. - -His lips and hands were great- - Buffy thought impatiently, - -but hadn’t he gone to fetch a condom so she could feel more?- -

He broke the kiss to begin nibbling on her ear, hands fanning along her waist. He loved her steel muscles, wrapped in the softest silk of her skin. He kissed down the side of her neck, then bent to wrap his lips around a nipple. Buffy gasped above him, loving the feel of his mouth on her sensitive skin. He began to suck, using lips and tongue, and slowly introducing his teeth to see her reaction. When he lightly bit her, Buffy let loose a deep moan and pulled his head harder against her. She leaned back, drawing more of his body into contact with hers, and undulated against him. He moved to her other breast, loving the feel of her against him, soaking up every moan and movement.

He released her nipple and looked up to see her still moaning, eyes closed and head thrown back. Wickedly grinning, he moved back a little on the floor, and dipped his tongue into her wet and waiting sex. Buffy arched off the couch, gasping and moaning at the feel of his mouth. No one had ever used his mouth on her, and she was overwhelmed at how good it felt. Giles was in heaven, licking and nibbling, sucking on her clitoris in time to her groans. He tilted her hips and plunged deeper into her with his tongue. Buffy mewled and moved her hips against his waiting mouth.

It wasn’t enough, though. She wanted him inside her.

She began tugging on his shoulders, bucking in time with his tongue but trying to get him to come back to her. Giles realized she was pulling him forward and, a little regretfully, began kissing his way back up her body.

“Giles, come here!” Buffy, slightly frustrated, pulled her lover up her body, then groaned at the renewed contact of his chest hair against her skin. He moved to the couch beside her, and she immediately pushed him down so she could straddle him again. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her wet center against his cock, but opened them again when he felt her lean over to reach for the condom.

“May I?” she asked shyly, reaching to stroke him again while she waited for his answer.

“Please?” he begged, arching into her touch and hoping the hunger he felt didn’t scare her off. He wanted her so much; he could barely restrain the impulse to dispense with protection and just bury himself inside her.

She opened the packet and slowly rolled on the condom, making him groan again as her fingers slid sensuously over the length of him. She smiled the sounds he was making, then, when she was done, leaned with both hands on his chest to kiss him deeply. His hands on her hips guided her over him, and she slid his cock into her with a shudder. He broke their kiss to growl in pleasure as she closed around him.

His hips rose and fell of their own accord, bucking against her as her body responded in kind. They were both bound to that movement, enthralled and enraptured at the feel of their bodies moving together. Buffy felt, at last, that she could let go. She arched up, chanting his name at every thrust. Giles gazed at the woman who moved above him and was lost. Every cry from her lips pushed him closer to the edge. As he buried himself in her again, he tried to hang on. The exquisite torture of her body above and around him only pushed him harder. His fingers moved between their bodies, his thumb found her clitoris, and he pressed in time with his thrusts and felt her body clench around his. Buffy’s orgasm flowed over her and melted every bone in her body. She fell against Giles as he bucked into her one final time and came growling her name.

They lay together, panting, as their bodies came down. Buffy looked at his face, her Giles, and realized that she felt utterly complete. Giles held her tightly to himself, stroking her back and trying to calm his beating heart. He was spent, satiated, and, he could admit to himself now, completely in love with the woman lying on him. He softly kissed her swollen lips.

Both spoke at the same moment.

“Giles, that was . . . “

“Buffy, I . . . “

Buffy giggled and put her hand to his cheek. He waited for her to go on. She started again, “Giles, that was incredible. I’m not even sure I know my own name. Would it horrify you if I told you I think I’m in love with you?”

She felt the laughter in his chest bubble up, and saw the twinkle in his eye. The side of his beautiful mouth turned up, “No, love. Particularly since that’s exactly what I was going to say to you.”

She tucked herself back into his body again, “Good. Because I don’t plan on moving in the next three hours, and it would have made it very awkward if you didn’t.”

“Well, as much as I love you,” he smiled again at the words, then shifted, pulling her off of his body, “we can’t stay like this for the next three hours.” Buffy frowned at him, and then comprehension dawned. Giggling, she let him up and watched him pad back into the bathroom. She heard the water running, then he reappeared. He walked around to the front of the couch and held out his hand.

Buffy looked quizzically at his outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled from the couch. She instantly leaned back into the heat of his body, and began stroking down his sides and kissing his chest. Giles bent down, and suddenly she was being carried in his arms. “Where are we going?” she asked as his lips moved towards hers for another kiss.

“I thought we might be more comfortable with covers.” He smiled down at her, amazed that this miraculous woman was in his arms, and winked. “Besides, I’ve got chains in my chest upstairs.”

~ the end ~

******************************

PhenDog’s Challenge:

Finals Week

Takes place during seasons 4 or 5 (for obvious reasons) when Buffy, Tara, and
Willow (plus whoever you want as incidental characters) are
busy taking their final exams.

Can be short--just a few paragraphs, or as long as you want, ships or not...but
I want it to make me laugh! (I may need a reason to after my
grades come back) I know that many of you are past this traumatic time in your
life...but I also know that all of those of you who went
through it still remember it no matter how long or short ago it was. Feel free
to draw on your personal experience!

That's it in the requirements realm...here're some optional inclusions though if
you need something to jog the ol' muse!:
1) Someone has a dream (or an actual experience!) in which either a) they have
to take a final for a class they forgot they signed up for and
never attended or b) they show up to a final naked...
3) Giles shares a story about his own school "daze" at Oxford
4) One of the exams truly DOES have demonic properties (i.e. something along the
lines of anyone who looks directly at it immediately breaks
down sobbing/flies into a homicidal rage/etc.)
5) It is discovered that one of the exams is actually just a questionnaire
designed by a sorcerer/demon to single out appropriate
snacks/victims/sacrifices.

stranger than fiction

2004-08-02T22:12:00.000-07:00

Summary: Finals week. Buffy. Dragons. You’ll see.

Date: 5/10/04

Spoilers: Season 4. Takes place just after A New Man

Rating: PG

Notes: Written in response to PhenDog’s Fabulous Finals Challenge (read at the end of the story)

Feedback: sure? It’s the first thing I’ve ever posted, so if you hate it, forgive me. But tell me about it

She hurried down the hallway, coffee in hand, to take a seat before class started. Once everyone had filed into the room the professor began handing tests out to each row. Buffy accepted hers and reached down to her bag to grab her pencil. Just as she leaned over she realized that she was sitting in class without a stitch of clothing. In that exact moment she felt the eyes of the entire class on her. The professor looked at her sardonically and said, “Were you hoping this was going to get you a better grade, Ms. Summers? I assure you, regardless of your charms, I won’t grade on a curve.” The entire class laughed as, for some crazy reason, she stood up.

She started to splutter, “But . . . I just got done studying with Giles! I’ll pass the test, really I will! I studied, I mean, really studied! “ She moved towards a position at the bottom of the stairs. She looked back at the rest of the class while futilely trying to cover herself with her hands (one hand still clutching the test). Suddenly, a green spiny dragon crashed through the windows at the back of the classroom, breathing smoke and making strange woofffle woofle sounds. Buffy instinctively ran up the stairs, nudity forgotten as she rushed to defend her classmates. She scooted to a stop in front of it’s steamy nostrils and held her pencil up like a stake, getting ready to shove it through the dragon’s eyes.

“Buffy? What are you doing? You know you can’t kill dragons!” shouted Riley from somewhere behind her.

Buffy yelled over her shoulder “Riley, for the last time, it’s my job!! If you can’t figure it out, shut up and get out” and started forward again.

Suddenly, just outside of the window, she heard the sound of a chainsaw begin it’s rev. Giles appeared with chainsaw in hand and lept over the side of the windowsill into the room. The dragon, who had continued to threaten the students now fleeing the room with jets of steam, turned on it’s tail to advance on Giles. Buffy screamed, “Giles no!” and raised her pencil higher.

Giles turned to look at her and grinned, “Don’t worry Buffy! It’s a just a disappearing-clothes dragon. I’ve got it covered. Which is more than I can say for you!” With that he ran up to the dragon, and severed it’s head from it’s shoulder with his chainsaw. It exploded, showering the room in little green and pink bits.

“Giles! It’s my job to be the slayer and get rid of the big bad!” Buffy pouted, nudity still forgotten. Giles walked up to his slayer, covered in little pink and green bits and nothing else, and swept her into his arms.

“Yes, normally, but this way I get to see you naked.” Before she could protest, he bent down to cover her mouth with his.

~ the end ~

*********************************

The challenge: Finals Week

Takes place during seasons 4 or 5 (for obvious reasons) when Buffy, Tara, and Willow (plus whoever you want as incidental characters) are busy taking their final exams.

Can be short--just a few paragraphs, or as long as you want, ships or not...but I want it to make me laugh! (I may need a reason to after my grades come back) I know that many of you are past this traumatic time in your life...but I also know that all of those of you who went through it still remember it no matter how long or short ago it was. Feel free to draw on your personal experience!

That's it in the requirements realm...here're some optional inclusions though if you need something to jog the ol' muse!:
1) Someone has a dream (or an actual experience!) in which either a) they have to take a final for a class they forgot they signed up for and never attended or b) they show up to a final naked.
2) Xander sits in on a final or two even though he's not a student and tries out a few of the suggestions on 50 Ways to Flunk a Final which can be found at: http://www.frivolity.com/teatime/Lists/flunk_course_during_final.txt
3) Giles shares a story about his own school "daze" at Oxford
4) One of the exams truly DOES have demonic properties (i.e. something along the lines of anyone who looks directly at it immediately breaks down sobbing/flies into a homicidal rage/etc.)
5) It is discovered that one of the exams is actually just a questionaire designed by a sorcer/demon to single out appropriate snacks/victims/sacrifices.
6) During one of the exams there is a nice little interruption by a demon and because of that everyone gets and A!
7) Willow or Tara performs a spell to pass one of the tests and it horribly backfires!
8) Someone manages to sell a book back to the bookstore and get even close to what they originally paid for it!

dirty thought IV

2004-06-05T02:06:00.000-07:00

been reading a ton of b&d lately - something fun about wanton sex that involves collars. And standing, shuddering, while your partner strokes you to his heart's content. Mmmmm.

it's hard for me to explain why b&d is so very right - actually, harder for me to understand someone who says they don't get it. there is something utterly selfish in the selfless-ness of a slave. The Master has to be the one who thinks up all the good party tricks. The slave does have to submit, and come or not come as instructed, which is part of the excruciating pleasure of it all. But a slave needs an inventive Master to have any fun. Oh, sure, it's great to be bent over a couch/chair/bed/table and fucked hard and fast, but that only works 5 times out of 10. The rest of the time there has to be temptation and titillation. The Master must serve the needs of the slave - keep them hot and wet and guessing. Hard work. Well deserving of praise.

morning

2004-05-10T13:50:00.000-07:00

She felt him cuddle against her back. His arm reached over her hips to stroke between her legs, fingers lazily drawing the heat. Wet warmth gathered and she tilted her hips against his circling fingers. As she drowsily began to shift closer to his body, his lips closed on her neck and he spread lazy nibbles across her shoulders. She squirmed against him as his fingers moved harder and faster in her. She felt him smile against her neck, then open his mouth to bite down hard against the muscles beneath his lips. She let out a mewl that turned into a groan, knowing she'd be marked but caring little. It was lovely to be woken up like this – his hot skin against hers, cradled in his arms, body humming with warmth. His hips arched behind hers, his leg moving between hers to toss her leg back. Her body lengthened against his, his fingers pushing deeper into her as she felt his cock, hard and wanting, behind her. She arched her hips back, shifting, hoping he'd realize she wanted more than his driving fingers. All their movements were unhurried – just long and warm and lusty. She felt her own juices begin to wet the sheets as she moved. She began to moan, softly, as his hips shifted to move further between her legs. His cock slipped up her vulva, it's tip stroking towards his fingers at her clit. Wanting, she didn't hesitate to mover her hips just enough to sheath him inside her, and he bucked against her with a growl to bury himself to the hilt. His other arm slid up between her hips and the mattress, to splay around her belly, holding her tight as he moved in her. She closed her eyes and melted in his embrace, feeling her entire body surge in time with his. Every nerve tingled and tightened as he continued to thrust, over and over. Her body bucked of it's own accord. She flexed her vaginal walls around his cock and his arms clasped her, his breath hot against her neck, his movements unhurried and powerful. She loved his heat, his passion, the feeling of being his, the feeling of his cock inside her and his hands at her clit. His fingers stroked a final time and her head bent backwards as she came. He growled behind her as she gasped out her orgasm. He pushed into her harder than he had before, once twice, and again, until she felt his cock stiffen and lengthen, and then burst inside her. His fingers remained between her legs, his body relaxed behind her, as she shuddered with the aftermath of her orgasm. He chuckled, and moved her hair away from the side of her face, to kiss her on her cheek. “Good morning, luv.”

Suddenly she was awake. Truly awake this time, not dreaming she'd been awake. . . in the hottest dream she'd had . . . well, since, ever.

amsterdam I

2004-04-20T13:47:00.000-07:00

I met them at the hostel – they seemed like such an amazing couple. They were in Amsterdam for their holidays, just a couple of weeks a year, staying cheaply so they could see everything they wanted to see. Etienne was some kind of architect, tall and svelte with black hair and a typically Gallic smile. Sophie was incredible, with long legs, raven hair and bright green eyes that always seemed to be on the verge of laughter. One night in the common room the sex shows came up. Etienne & Sophie waxed enthusiastic. We all decided we’d head down the next night and take in the show together.

We stood outside in a mob, buying tickets, smoking and laughing. I couldn’t help but be a little shy – this was my first trip out of the country and here I was, at 20, going into a sex show with a bunch of people from my hostel. But I was here to experience life right? Etienne caught my eye over his wife’s shoulder and winked at me – it was sultry and just a little bit naughty, and I was suddenly reassured. This was a little bit of fun, just like everything else in this city. He murmured something in Sophie’s ear and she grinned a wicked smile before waiting for me to hand my tickets over and enter with them.

There was a tall stage at the farthest part of the room, with high backed couches arranged for the audience. Sophie grabbed my hand and pulled me over to a couch on the side of the stage, one that seemed completely shielded from anyone but the stage’s view. Etienne walked up with three glasses of wine in his hands, and sat between us on the cough. Sophie thanked him and snuggled into his side as they both turned a little to face me. I was going to say something, at least thank you for the wine, when the house lights dimmed.

I gasped to see the woman spot lit on stage, completely nude with an assortment of toys scattered on the bed. A masked mman approached her, and began to use the toys in ways I'd never really imagined. I was captivated.

Etienne leaned close and whispered in my ear. "We thought you'd like this little one." I felt heated by his proximity and his breath sent shivers down my spine.

I felt movement beside me. I saw Etienne’s hand move along Sophie’s thigh to reveal her black garters and nylon clad legs. He slowly curved her dress upwards until he could delve between her legs. Their faces continued to watch the show while Sophie slowly unzipped Etienne’s pants, fingers sensuously diving into the fabric. I couldn’t believe they’d engage in such carnal behavior, yet somehow it seemed so . . . fantastically sexy, too. I shifted a little on the couch at the wetness between my own legs, realizing that the couple beside me turned me on far more than the floor show.

Sophie began to arch into the hand between her legs, her body sensuously shimmying on the couch as his fingers massaged her. Her eyes closed, but her hand continued to stroke him, slowly drawing him away out of the confines of his clothes. He was completely hard, and I had to restrain myself from turning completely towards them to watch what would happen next.

I must have made some sound or moved more than I thought, because suddenly I felt Sophie’s eyes lazily open to focus on my face. She smiled, another wicked smile, and leaned closer to Etienne and whisper “my love, it’s time” before arching into his hand still further, her hips coming off of the seat.

He turned with a slow lazy smile at me and arched an eyebrow. Softly I felt a warm hand slide up my leg towards my knee, sliding my skirt back. It was a sensuous movement that almost made me come on the spot – I couldn’t resist a small moan escaping as his fingers brushed across the front of my panties.

Sophie had turned so she could watch Etienne’s hand against me, his other hand buried to the wrist between her legs. Her gown was terribly low cut, and I could see her nipples press against the fabric as she leaned towards me. Suddenly the hand that wasn’t occupied with her husband’s penis was covering his fingers against my sex, pressing harder against me. My underwear was soaked to transparency, and slipped between my pussy lips as four fingers pressed against my vulva and clit at the same time. It was overwhelming to be held in this plush seat by the combined strength of their hands against my body.

(to be continued . . .)

thought three

2004-04-14T19:39:00.000-07:00

Ever have one of those dirty rough-and-tumble wet dreams that make you want to keep sleeping? The ones that feel like they’re scratching that proverbial itch from the inside out. And when you roll over in the blankets you realize you’re wet and horny, slothful and ready to dream again? That’s why I couldn’t get out of bed today.

oldie, but not bad.

2004-04-10T13:45:00.000-07:00

Hello my lord. I have a tale here that I think will suit your fancy .
. . or a continuation of a tale that extends throughout your realm, and
into the future, where no man or woman can see what scope or
possibility it contains . . .

-------------------------------------------------
Part I (of Lady K's narrative)

When I come out of the room, I am shaking uncontrollably. I couldn't
distinguish between the teacher and myself, and I was completely taken
by the young student. Every cry that was torn out of her throat was
mine. Every moment she reveled in the power he had over her, every
time her cunt came closer to being completely fulfilled, I I was the
one whose breasts were pressed against that firm flesh. It was my hip
bucking wildly when she came. I will never forget those drawings and
those moments, even if they did not exist.I walked down the hallway,
trembling, my body still pumping from the night of sex with a sixteen
year old.

I can feel the tenderness between my legs - a kind of delicious pain
that comes from having entirely too much sex in one night. But, as I
look around, I can hear sounds of the orchestra playing some entirely
too ornamental tune, and laughter drifts down the halls. Unless Lord
Azhran has a ball every night, I have some out of the room seconds
after I entered it. Its dark doorway beckons, but I have shut that
door and decide to pass on to new rooms.

Although my body is still recovering, I begin to long for the next sex.
Considering, I think that I can't just walk into another room, or I'll
never survive the rest of the ball! But, if I watch at a doorway or
two, the clinching need that diminished once the student had his fill
of me will begin again. I stroll further along the dark passage way.
The grey stone walls are not frightening to me, even though some might
shrink from the gargoyle covered doorways and the low torches that burn
with blue and red fires that line the hall. I look for a door that is
open, but find nothing within sight. Turning the corner, I suddenly
come face to face with bright light that is streaming from a doorway.
I can hear muffled sounds coming from inside, but I put my back up
against the wall and slink closer to it, like a theif. Moving next to
the doorway, the sounds become heavier. I can tell now that a woman is
moaning.

She makes low, heavy moaning sounds. Sounds that remind me of waves
breaking ships against rocky shores. Sounds that recall the heavy
moaning of cougars in heat. They are nearly continuious now, ebbing
and rising like a tide. Suddenly, a high, startled cry rings through
the hallway. Something has happened inside. Something that the woman
is not sure she likes. But, the low moaning resumes again. I peek my
head around the corner. Caught by the sight, I'm transfixed, a gasp
caugth in my throat.

Stricken to the spot, I see a tall woman, facing the door, completely
nude. Her long black hair streams past her shoulders, down to the
middle of her back, where it peeks around to brush her breasts. She is
chained to the celling with heavy links ending in huge black cuffs.
The way her breasts hang, just a little out and down, make me want to
walk in and caress them. They are large, but not pendulous, with
startelingly hard bright pink nipples. A fierce desire to suck those
hardened nipples seises me. I can feel my body bending towards hers,
pelvis first,with the desire to be her/be with her warring in my mind.
I can see that she is chained to the floor at an angle that keeps her
feet just behind where her hands are chained, and makes her breasts
dangle out and down.

Body sweating with a light sheen, she moans again. This time I can see
what happens when she moans. Her entire body undulates through the
sound. It's like every pore of her being is involved in this act,
every moment she devotes more and more of herself to the sensations
that are being brought on by her two tormenters. Her hips rise to some
imaginary partner, and as she looses her grip on her bonds, her entire
body begins to shake. An undulation starts at her toes, moves up her
legs, through her pussy, and up her stomach, making her breasts bounce
and quiver, her hair spin, until finally, she relaxes. The entire
process begins again, as the sound repeats itself.

Ahh, to be in the hands of those inquisitors! Would that they would
ask the same questions of the flesh to my shaking body! But I thought
to only observe this scene. Besides, for me to enter now would break
the rhythm of the three.

One captor stood behind her slave's back, her beautiful body
alternately hidden then exposed by her cape, her hard nipples apparent,
even through the black velvet fabric. She held a dangerous toy in her
hand; she slapped it occasionaly against her own muscled thigh. I had
only seen these in my father's punishment books, suggesting their
sinister origins, but it did not look like this slave's torture was in
any way painful. Or maybe she just liked the pain? How much can one
be hurt or aroused by a paddle? Another startled cry is ripped from
the delicious raspberry lips of the slave. I turn my attention back to
her as her ass rises to catch the full force of the paddle. She is
completely in the power of the woman who tortures her - moving her body
before prompted as she heard the thick whistle of the paddle in the
air. It contacted with a loud slap, and the Mistress smiled
demonically at the movements of her bound slave.

I answered my own question about arousal by slipping my hand under my
ball gown. Already, the the outer folds of my skirt were moist! I knew
that if I touched myself in any sexual way, I would come this instant.
And I didn't feel like diverting my attention away from their amazing
show. I pulled my hand away and shifted my gaze to the second of the
slave's captors.

If a man could walk out of my fantasies, this would be what he looked
like when he appeared in physical form. Wearing only wrist and ankle
cuffs (he was obviously a slave of the Mistress, set to do anything and
everything to this helpless slave before him) he knelt at the feet of
the struggling body and leaned towards her. I could see his erection
pounding the air as he moved to lick her thigh.

The slave's hips leaped towards his face, and as she gasped in dismay
because she couldn't make contact with his roving tongue, the paddle
found her buttocks again. The entire room was filled with the tension
and energy of the bound girl's need. The Mistress slapped agian, and
from the increasing pitch of her voice, I knew that the slave was close
to cumming. Her body was covered with a sheen of sweat, and her
moaning had moved from a wave to a low hum that increased as the male
slave's tounge swung closer and closer to her dripping lips.

"You are next" whispered a voice from behind my neck. One startled
breath escaped me and two hands wrapped themselves around me and buried
themselves into the cleft between my thighs. "You want to be the girl
tied up, hoping for release, don't you?" the voice demanded, rubbing
ruthlessley between my legs. I couldn't speak, her hands were so
powerful. "I'm going to take you to the next room, and hang you from
the celing, just to listen to you beg like that" she said, her body
rubbing up against my back. My body filled with aching, all I could do
was get hotter and hotter at her words and hands. "I'll even get a boy
to lick you into a frenzy - I'll let you beg for his cock, but I won't
let you have it." She lifted up my skirt, her hands moving swiftly to
my mound. She pressed back against the bone, hard, and my hips moved
aginst her hands, willing her to move lower. "You're not watching
anymore . . . turn your head back!" demanding words matched her demands
on my pussy, moving down and around the most tender places, always
teasing, always hard, always just out of reach. But I turned my head
back, concentrating on the felling of her hands and the movement of the
bodies in the room. I tried not to think about my body, already
shaking, every movement a silent plea for release . . .

The Mistress allowed the boy to suck the pink nipples of the moaning
slave girl. His cock strained toward the tender pussy displayed before
him and as it got close the paddle cracked and thrust the whimpering
girl's hips onto his penis. Both gasped, and were driven almost to the
bounds of madness as the chains broke up their contact and moved the
girl's body away from the boy. The paddle cracked again, and now the
twin gasps changed to loud moans as the slave's bodies embraced
eachother. Their mistress presided over their twitching flesh,
allowing them to stay together. Their bodies pumped in a frantic
rhythm, trying to satisfy their aching needs. But the swing of the
girl's chains inexorably drew her body away from that pumping penis
inside her. She whimpered again - a tiny sound of pain and unbearable
longing. The paddle cracked again, this time making a louder sound
than ever before. Twin grunts exploded from the mouths of the slaves,
as the girl writhed and twisted on the penis now impaling her. The
paddle caressed her ass, while the man in front of her slammed himself
frantically inside her. The two built themselves into a frenzy. The
Mistress sped the paddle's rhythm, pounding the girl further and
further onto the dick in front of her, both slaves crying out as their
bodies twisted and bucked, each trying to reach orgasm before their
mistress stopped their torment. She cried out "COME!" and used her
paddle mercelesley, cracking it in time with their thrusts, watching as
they climed higher and higher.

Then, suddenly, the girl screamed a long throaty moan. Her body bucked
and bucked, knocking the slave away from her as her orgasm took her.
The paddle continued it's torment of her from behind, and she came on
empty air, shaking and crying, her breasts heaving, her hips lifting
themselves as high as they could go within her bonds, the lips of her
vulva wide open to my view, her little clit red, engorged, and pumping
of it's own accord. She let out one last moan before hanging lifeless
against her bonds, seemingly comatose after her earthshattering come.

thought two

2004-04-01T21:55:00.000-08:00

it's frustrating (in more ways than one) that so many stories about bondage seem to involve a huge dose of humiliation. i need to find somewhere that has stories that are titillating without degradation . . . honestly need to write more of them too. But just once I'd love to have the gorgeous girl in school who was forced to walk around for six weeks without her clothes on revel in the attention. Wantonly bare herself in front of teachers and friends. Feel heated with every single eye on her, not squirming out from beneath their gaze. I suppose there's something in that whole shy crap, but hell, wouldn't it be fun just to flaunt everything? Tits and pussy on display for the world. Every touch becomes arousing, every stare is a turn on. maybe time for another re-write.

One Day (Red Riding Hood Part I)

2004-03-10T13:43:00.000-08:00

Red set out early in the morning, heading to her grandma’s house. She hadn’t walked there in a long time, and although the forest was beautiful in spring she wanted to finish her hike before noon. But as she walked, she saw a glimmer of a new clearing through the trees. She stopped at the meadow, struck by its beauty. It was covered in a bed of flowers and tall grasses. She couldn’t resist taking a look

She took her shoes off, and untied her cloak. She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face (after being under the shade of the trees, the sun was welcome). The grass felt so soft against her feet. She decided that she’d pick some of the flowers for grandmother, set her basket down, with her cloak, and turned back into the sun.

It felt so good on her face and neck and the tops of her breasts.

The moment she stepped into the clearing she was spotted by Loup. His grey eyes narrowed as he took in the young girl in the red cloak. He was so very hungry, and she looked quite tasty. He watched as she undid her cloak and revealed a pair of ripe breasts nearly bursting out of her peasant girl bodice. His loins tightened and he almost growled at the bounty before him. He couldn’t resist the vision and sauntered into the light.

She looked up at the sound of a deep voice asking “What have we here?” and found herself caught in a pair of cool gray eyes. He stepped forward with lithe grace, every muscle in tense relief against his gray clothes. Her breath caught as he moved towards her, and she backed away from the animal quality of him, not knowing from his predatory smile whether he was going to eat her or not. She bumped into a tree behind her and stopped, pinned by his gaze and shivering at the look in his eyes.

“What have you got in your basket, Red?” He grinned as he walked closer, stopping a couple of paces away, looking her up and down. She was perfect, round breasts pressed against the fabric of her bodice, the outline of shapely legs seen through the gauze of her skirt. He loved the half frightened look in her eyes, the curiosity he could see underneath.

“Nothing for you” she replied, feeling the heat from his eyes move over her body. Her nipples reacted him, tightening against the fabric. His eyes felt like hands, she felt so warm, and she unconsciously moved her legs to adjust to the sudden wetness of her panties. What was he doing here? What was he going to do to her? She felt trapped by hunger in his gaze, the secret smile at the edges of his lips. He looked so dangerous, just standing in front of her, and she’d just denied him.

He made a small frown at her reply, although the light in his eyes didn’t dim. He saw her nipples spring to life. He watched as her body reacted to him. His moved forward, lightening fast, and suddenly her hands her were above her, held by his, as he pinned her to the trunk.

Heat jolted between her legs as he ground against her. Her heart was pounding, breath coming in little gasps, from the surprise of his boldness and the heat of his body along hers. She was stretched against the trunk, breasts warm against him, delicious. He dipped his head and rested his lips against her neck, breathing in her scent and loving the softness of her skin. She struggled, just a little, against his hands, and it made him even harder to feel her hips rise off the trunk and pitch towards his erection.

He twitched his hips and heard her gasp. His smile stretched a little wider against her neck, knowing that she was enjoying his play. He shifted his hands on her wrists, and brought one hand down to hover between them. He slowly began to pull her skirt up, bit by bit, above her knees, above his hand, so he could slip under and touch her thighs.

“And what about this basket? Do you have anything for me here?” he whispered against her ear as his fingers hovered over her warmth.

She gasped at the delicate sensation of his fingers moving just beyond contact. She couldn’t move – she was already so wet and he’d barely touched her. She couldn’t admit that she wanted to throw herself against his fingers, grind against him until she found release. Instead of answering, she whimpered.

Her whimper went through him like fire. He moved his hand hard against her, fingers moving deftly between her legs. She was hot, her panties already wet. God he loved the feel of a woman through her panties. The thin barrier between his fingers and her burning core slowly got wetter and wetter, until he felt like he could break through it with a thought.

His fingers were rough and demanding against her, yet she never wanted him to stop. She closed her eyes and shamelessly gave herself up to the feeling of being caught, helpless against the tree while he stroked her to orgasm. His fingers circled against her clit, pressing deeper. She felt him pant against her neck, his chest against her nipples. She could feel how aroused he was and it set her entire body on fire. He increased the pressure of his fingers every time she made a sound. She moaned again, feeling close, wanting to come.

At her moan, he pulled back, brought his fingers up to his mouth, and licked his saturated index finger. It tasted rich and heady. “I think I found a treat,” he purred as he took in her flushed face and chest, eyes closed in passion, legs wide apart and waiting for him. She was so sexy with her dress pulled up and her chest heaving. His head dipped down to nibble at the tops of her exposed breasts while his hand grabbed the top of her panties and ripped them off her. She gasped in shock at his actions, then bit off a scream as his fingers drove back between her legs, stroking between her lips, the tip of his index finger circling against her clit. His finger moved hard and fast, harder as her hips bucked against his hand. She came hard, her entire body shaking with the orgasm.

just a note

2004-02-26T13:42:00.000-08:00

There’s something luxurious about masturbating in the evenings. I’ve spent the last three nights in a row reading porn and sitting on the couch with my body burning. I love it. Unfortunately, it makes writing it that much harder – I’d much rather read with my hand slowly moving between my legs than write new words. I have a bunch of ideas, but no where to go on them... soon, though... soon.