Ticklish

tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6438946.post-1156742440610240742006-08-27T22:17:00.000-07:002006-08-27T22:20:40.626-07:00TicklishPairing: 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 ~katenoreply@blogger.com