Chapter 1
Summary:
Beautiful, perfect cover image entirely and completely credited to The One, The Only - The_Crazy_Knight, an excellent friend, supportive editor, and all-around fantastically talented creature.
Chapter Text
Chapter 2
Chapter by guin_ramble
Chapter Text
"can't see much of a future
unless we find out what's to blame
(what a shame)"
- "ever fallen in love" The Buzzcocks, 1978
1. fever dream
With still-trembling fingers, Giles fumbled with the doorknob to his flat. His head spun while adrenaline coursed through him and his nerves jangled. Finally, he forced the lock with an irritable jerk, thoughts racing as he entered the flat. Tossing his keys on the counter, Giles immediately reached for the scotch. He poured himself a stiff measure and knocked it back, wincing as it burned in his smoke-roughened throat. Finding that this slightly dulled his anxiety, Giles poured another and took a deep breath before heading for the bathroom to rid himself of the acrid odor of burnt high school. He started the shower and stripped down, sipping the scotch meditatively as the water warmed before stepping into the spray.
Of all the things Giles had expected after being fired from the Council (prior to quite literally immolating his cover-job), Buffy kissing him had been dead last on the list. Scrubbing furiously at his hair (an alarming amount of soot must have settled on him, judging by the grayish soap eddies around his feet), Giles tried to block out thoughts of the kiss as best he could… as well as thoughts of the kisses which had immediately followed, willingly reciprocated by a bloke more than old enough to know better. Her lips had been so soft and her breast had fit perfectly against the palm of his hand…
"Fuck." Shaking himself and pointedly ignoring the manner in which certain parts of him had taken interest, Giles rinsed and switched off the water. He'd known about Buffy's harmless crush for some time; in fact, while he hadn't encouraged it, Giles had secretly hoped that her mild infatuation with him would accelerate the demise of her doomed relationship with Angel. Giles didn't flatter himself, as he fancied he was likely the most harmless option for Buffy's attentions — the alternatives, obviously, were not auspicious.
Knowing Buffy as well as he did, Giles understood her clear frustration at not having an outlet for her stymied affection. Angel understandably feared the loss of his own soul and Buffy clearly respected that. She had admitted of late, privately, that a few days prior to their break-up Angel had disallowed even the most chaste gestures. Obviously, Giles reasoned, the result of Buffy's pent-up sexual needs had been their post-apocalypse mutual indiscretion in his car. The ending of Buffy's relationship with Angel was certainly for the best and, in time, her crush would abate so that she could engage in a relationship with someone far more appropriate. Giles slipped on his robe and tied it firmly, pleased with his philosophical rationalization of recent events.
After putting his glasses back on, Giles exited the bathroom whilst absently scrubbing at his hair with a towel.
"Hey."
Giles nearly jumped out of his skin. Once he got his breath back, he glared at Buffy who sat on the countertop, calmly swinging her legs. "You ought to be glad I'm in good health," he grumbled, trying not to fixate on the embarrassing yelp that had escaped him. "Startling a bloke my age that way…"
Buffy smiled, appearing deeply unrepentant. "I ordered Chinese. And, um —" Raising her hands in the air, she added quickly, "I come unarmed. No more smoochies from this region tonight. It's just… I didn't want to be alone?" Her smile, still present, didn't hide her underlying uncertainty.
Heart still racing a bit, Giles found it entirely too easy to give in to her as was his wont. Buffy's little caveat of 'tonight' had not escaped his notice but he chose not to comment. "Well, I suppose if you've come bearing food…" Buffy's eyes brightened and, when Giles noted the path they appeared to be tracing over him, he cleared his throat and fiddled nervously with the loosened v-neck of his robe. "I'll, erm… j-just be a moment," he muttered, hurriedly dashing up the stairs.
While yanking on his clothes (a newer pair of jeans and one of his nice fitted jumpers — he was only human, after all) Giles heard a knock and the murmuring of voices before the door closed again and the telltale clatter of dishes hastened his progress. Glancing in the mirror, he ran his fingers through his too-short hair then clamped his glasses back on before padding barefoot down to the kitchen.
For a moment, Giles was struck by how utterly fond he had become of his Slayer. The tableau before him was surprisingly domestic — for them, at any rate. Buffy was in the kitchen, pulling glassware from the cupboards and serving spoons from the drawers. The table was already set and Giles smiled wistfully at the half-burnt tapers that Buffy had lit at the center. Suddenly feeling a bit shy, he asked, "Can I do anything?"
Tossing a grin over her shoulder, Buffy said, "Well, you can root out some chopsticks — I know you have 'em. And if you want to celebrate a new grad properly, I did see a bottle of wine in the fridge…"
His own answering grin surprised him. "Buffy…"
"What? Special treat for a special occasion! I got you that spicy cold chicken thing you like…" Her tone wheedling, she raised an eyebrow in a manner so charmingly suggestive that Giles assumed she must have practiced in advance.
Doing his level best not to overthink things, Giles snagged two wine glasses from the cupboard and deftly opened the bottle. Sauvignon blanc; likely too dry for Buffy's tastes, if her other dietary preferences were any particular guide. They sat together at the table and ate an appalling amount of food; chatting idly and sipping wine, Giles could almost pretend that they were just two people having a regular night in. Having a date.
A long-suppressed memory echoed at the back of his mind; a playful voice saying, "Hey, I got a thing. You maybe have a thing. Maybe we could have a thing…" Shaking himself, Giles banished that absurd notion as he topped up his wine glass hurriedly.
"So, this TV you keep trying to hide from me," Buffy said as they both nibbled at the last of the scallion pancakes. "Does it happen to have a matching hidden VCR?"
Giles snorted inelegantly. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Buffy shrugged and fetched something out of her purse, walking towards the living room with her half-full glass of wine. "I'm just saying — dinner and a show is always a solid evening plan."
By the time Giles had tidied their leftovers and given their plates a swift rinse, Buffy had commandeered half his sofa and a not half-bad cover of "As Time Goes By" was playing over the opening credits to whichever movie she'd decided to inflict upon him. Nudging Buffy with his leg to get her to give him room, Giles handed her a bowl wordlessly as he sat next to her.
"Oh, hey, ice cream!" Buffy beamed up at him and Giles felt his breath leave him in a rush at the beauty of her smile. In the background, he could faintly hear a soft voice singing, "A kiss is just a kiss…"
The wine was obviously going to his head. Giles cleared his throat. "I did make a promise, after all."
It wasn't a terrible movie, although Giles complained mightily of it to Buffy throughout; he couldn't pay more than half-attention to it because Buffy was leaning her head against his shoulder and their hands kept brushing together. She slept on his sofa that night and was gone in the morning, a hastily scribbled note on the counter informing him that she'd left for home to await Joyce's return.
2. summer(s) fancies
The beginning of the summer progressed much in the same manner; Buffy would wander over with a couple of coffees in hand a few times a week ("I did the sleeping-in thing, Giles, but a person can only snooze so much," she'd explained when he'd noted how unusual this behavior was) and they would while away the day together. After the Ascension, Sunnydale was even more dormant than it had been during prior summers; they spoke at length about why that may be but ultimately came to the conclusion that they must have killed or scared off the majority of the demon activity for the time being.
The inevitable result, of course, was that Buffy had become quite restless. They began to spar; space was obviously at a premium, since even with the furniture pushed back there wasn't near enough room for proper weapons training. (There had been a rather unfortunate incident with a crossbow. Buffy was charmingly remorseful over the rather nice vase which had been the unwitting victim.) After that, Giles tactfully suggested hand-to-hand and Buffy accepted with alacrity. He realized his error swiftly, to his credit; Buffy had agreed to vary their typical routine far too easily and it didn't take long to figure out why that was.
No, Giles reflected as he lay on the floor of his living room with Buffy straddling his waist and pinning his wrists above his head, it wasn't even remotely difficult to understand why she'd been interested in the change. "Hey," she breathed, her face dangerously close to his. He could feel the warm whisper of air through her slightly parted lips and her eyes were near-hypnotic in the manner in which they captured his.
"Hello," Giles breathed back. Buffy's thighs were gripping him firmly and her breasts were pressed tantalizingly against his chest. The weight of her on top of him was delicious and Giles found himself closing his eyes as warm breath puffed across his slightly parted lips.
Then his eyes flew open as Buffy brushed an impish kiss across the tip of his nose before leaping to her feet. "Again?"
Thus their summer continued the way it started; Giles would call a halt to training, usually after Buffy had stolen a kiss (once he protested that she oughtn't make a habit of kissing the vampires before staking them and she'd pertly replied that she planned to kill them with kindness, leaving him momentarily speechless), and he'd rinse off in the shower while Buffy either watched television or took a quick run. Then came supper (she'd rinse off while he cooked or ordered food and the mental images that plagued him as a result were nothing short of torture) and an evening on the sofa together.
It was only a few weeks before Giles found himself (inevitably) pinned to the floor again with Buffy sprawled on top of him. Her stolen kisses had previously been innocently brushed against his nose, his jawline, his cheek; this time, she touched her lips to his and lingered. When Giles didn't protest (he couldn't breathe for wanting), Buffy released his wrists and caressed his cheek as she deepened the kiss ever-so-slightly. Unable to resist, his lips parted under hers and the tip of her tongue flicked his teasingly. Giles arched up, his hand sliding up to cup the base of Buffy's head, her silky hair tangling with his fingers as his tongue stroked hers. The reality of his own gradually urgent physical response had Giles turning his head away and murmuring half-heartedly, "…Buffy, we shouldn't…"
Buffy simply smiled at him as she stood and offered him a hand up. They continued their new routine in the days that followed with the addition of ever-more serious stolen kisses; Giles privately admitted that his protests were scarcely believable any longer once he found himself returning her kisses more frequently than not. Giles resisted asking Buffy where exactly her mother assumed she was spending her time. It was only a few days after their kissing games had begun to become something quite different that Giles managed to actually pin Buffy face-first to the wall. Using his larger size to his advantage, he managed to wrap his arm about her waist to trap her arms against her sides and cradled her jaw with his other hand.
"You lowered your guard," Giles panted. Not knowing quite what came over him, he lowered his mouth to her unprotected throat and bit her softly.
Buffy released a punched-out sound, arching back against him and gasping, "Oh? How?" She started to squirm, ostensibly to escape but in actuality sliding along his thigh, which was braced between her legs.
Continuing to hold her, Giles curled his arm a little higher on her abdomen. "Dropped your shoulder; it's a tell, Buffy, and now the vampire's got you…" Near-delirious from need, he bit down a little harder and Buffy writhed, sliding her released arm back and curling it around his neck. Giles traced his tongue against the slight indents his teeth had made on her skin and he felt her shiver, arching again to rub her backside against his rapidly hardening cock.
This snapped Giles out of his near-trance and he released Buffy, stepping back so quickly he nearly stumbled. "I-I'll just, erm — rinse off," he muttered, rushing to the bathroom without looking back.
3. heat
They were training in Giles' living room, all the furniture once more pushed out of the way. The weather had grown ghastly hot in the day or so that had passed and his air conditioning was woefully inadequate. Buffy had stripped down to her sports bra and a skin-tight pair of what Giles supposed could be called shorts if one were feeling charitable. He studiously tried to take no notice, as his joggers were quite thin and would leave very little to the imagination were he to become too… interested.
He’d started to sweat appallingly after their first hand-to-hand bout and Buffy suggested in a casual sort of way that Giles ought to just… go without his shirt. Feigning outraged shock, Giles mopped his face with the hem and pointed out, "I find it highly unlikely that you'd like me to be half-stripped down under the present circumstances."
“I’m just looking out, Giles,” Buffy replied with a grin. “If you get all swoony from heatstroke, you’ll wish you’d listened to me.”
“Yes, well, you’ll just have to wrestle me for it,” he shot back jokingly, then did a double-take and bit off a curse when Buffy lunged for him with a wicked little glint in her eyes.
It was play-wrestling. Nothing but play. Buffy pinned him to the rug, her bottom shunting roughly against his cock which had hardened the moment she’d taken him to the ground. “Buffy, you mustn’t,” he laughed as she tugged at his shirt, attempting to ignore his own arousal.
Then Buffy tickled him and as Giles bolted up into a sitting position with a breathless giggle, she cleanly skinned his shirt right off over his head. Bare-chested and breathing hard, Giles raised his eyebrow at her in a half-hearted attempt to appear stern. Their noses were nearly touching. “Happy now?” he asked, voice rough.
“Yeah,” she breathed and then deliberately hooked her arms around his shoulders and ground herself down on his erection.
Giles inhaled sharply, looking at her — he didn’t dare to say anything. She raised her own eyebrow in response and, after a brief moment of hesitation, he nodded once and grasped her bare waist. Buffy’s hot, eager mouth descended upon his and he met her with equal fervor, cradling her cheek with his hand and arching up to meet her. She never stopped her slow, constant grind and he gripped her arse firmly with his other hand to pull her against him. Buffy's eager little whimper was like music.
She played her fingers about in the smattering of curls across his chest and tweaked curiously at his nipples; Giles groaned, shoving his hips up and panting desperately into her mouth. “Buffy — Buffy — oh! Oh… w-we shouldn’t…” he whispered, contradicting himself by tugging hopefully at her bra as he spoke.
“Yeah… we shouldn’t…” Buffy stretched her bra to catch below her breasts and permitting her hard, pink nipples to pop out of confinement. Giles licked his lips as he stared down at her breasts, entranced. “Sh-shouldn’t lick me here,” Buffy gasped out, circling the stiff little peak with a fingernail and working her hips against his a little faster.
“Absolutely not.” Giles ducked his head down and captured her nipple between his lips, lapping at her eagerly. “Sh-shouldn’t rub yourself off on me,” he muttered, sucking and licking as he braced her steady grind with a firm grasp on her arse. He felt her grip him by the hair and the sensation shot straight to his cock, which leaked messily in his pants.
Then Buffy grasped his wrist and pulled his hand between her legs. “Sh-shouldn’t…” She trailed off with another of those beautiful whimpers, guiding Giles to the waistband of her shorts. “Shouldn’t feel how wet you make me,” she breathed into his ear before sliding his hand down into the stretchy Lycra and nibbling at his earlobe.
Giles’ brain short-circuited when he realized Buffy wasn't wearing knickers. Her cunt was bare and soaked; he swore under his breath and teased her with his fingers, spreading her slick before circling her swollen clitoris with his thumb. When his pointer and middle fingers slipped inside her, Buffy let out a sharp little cry and started to ride them. Giles nearly came on the spot when he heard her slurred out, “So good… Giles, you feel so good…”
The knock on the front door interrupted them just as Buffy began to climax, her cunt spasming around his fingers as he sucked her nipples. Her eyes met his, wide with panic as she continued to helplessly gyrate her hips into the sensation of her orgasm, and Giles swiftly sealed his mouth over hers to muffle her soft moans. Then she was sighing, her hips slowing against his soaked palm while she kissed him lingeringly. Dazed, Giles registered Buffy lifting herself off his fingers and standing, straightening her shorts and bra as though she had just finished a rather strenuous workout.
“Go… do what you need to do,” she hissed, handing him his shirt. Giles scrambled to his feet, cock aching and pushing out the front of his joggers obscenely. He spotted her staring and held his shirt down in front of him, a dark red flush mounting his cheeks before fleeing to the bathroom. He heard her dash for the kitchen and turn on the tap just as he closed the door firmly and switched on the shower.
Chapter 3
Chapter by guin_ramble
Summary:
Buffy and Giles continue their tension-filled dance...
Notes:
Thank goodness for The_Crazy_Knight, who kept me sane whilst I went back and forth with Ellipsus over some lost text. (Hence the late-posting.) And also thanks to Ellipsus, who have been quite helpful and responsive.
Chapter Text
"and if i start a commotion
i'll only end up losing you
(and that's worse)"
"ever fallen in love" The Buzzcocks, 1978
4. waiting
Willow and Oz and had returned from their tour with Oz's band; evidently, they had tried Buffy's place first but had been directed to Giles' flat by Joyce. Giles, somewhat disconcerted by the concept of Joyce knowing where Buffy had been spending the majority of her summer, took to the kitchen once he'd made himself decent after a horribly frigid shower. Oz, curse him, could clearly tell that Giles was a bit… edgy. After darting a brief and somewhat telling glance between Giles and Buffy, Oz suggested that they all have a look around the usual haunts to see if there had been any re-emergence of the demon specific sort.
Giles, acknowledging that he'd been included in the invitation, politely demurred. The pointed expression Buffy had directed his way told him explicitly that she wasn't done with him. He both dreaded and hoped all at once that she was serious. After they left, the uncertainty became a vexing sort of torture; Giles attempted to distract himself from the constantly looping thought that Buffy must be doing her level best to forget what had happened between them. This, of course, triggered a maddening flashback to the spectacular way she had fucked herself on his fingers which — inevitably — led to prickling, ashamed arousal.
Occupying himself the best way he knew how, Giles cooked supper. With a pang, he realized that this particular evening was the first since her visits began that Buffy had left before having a meal with him. That thought resulted in his appetite diminishing and him merely picking at his meal. Eventually, he gave up and poured himself a scotch after putting away the leftovers. Still feeling quite restless, Giles attempted to bury himself in the codex that Crowley had suggested they incorporate into a paper for an academic journal which they were co-writing (a paper he'd been massively neglecting of late) when the front door opened.
The sight of Buffy caused the most confusing sensation of relief and terror that Giles had ever felt; he found himself quite incapable of forming anything resembling a coherent word of greeting.
"Hey," Buffy said quietly, closing the door behind her and deliberately snapping the deadbolt.
Rising to stand by the table, Giles simply gazed at her while hoping his eyes were more eloquent than his jumbled thoughts. "H-hello," he managed, trying rather desperately to keep himself from doing something rash.
A long moment passed before either said anything, each staring the other down for what felt like eons. Then something within Giles felt like it just gave. "Fuck it," he muttered, tossing his book to the tabletop as he strode across the room. Buffy met him halfway and Giles wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to him as their lips crashed together.
Everything became a blur after that; he wasn't entirely certain how they managed to stumble upstairs together whilst frantically kissing and shedding clothing but they somehow managed it without injury. Buffy was yanking at his t-shirt and he tore it off over his head. Before he could even reach for Buffy's top, she'd shucked it and her glorious little tits bounced into view. Biting his lip at the sight, Giles unconsciously palmed his leaking cock through his jeans.
He backed her into the bed and guided her down onto it, following her path and sinking lower to draw her rosy nipple into his mouth. Buffy was moaning and tugging at his hair, arching up as he eagerly licked and sucked at the tiny, stiff peak. Giles could feel her shoving at her leggings with one hand and he instantly knelt on the floor to pull them off of her completely. He couldn't stop himself from gazing raptly at her flushed, pink little cunt as she lay before him, entirely nude.
When Giles tore his eyes away and looked back at her face, Buffy was watching him as a faint blush stained her cheeks. "Alright?" he asked, voice unsteady as he watched her hand flutter towards her center as though tempted to conceal it.
"Do I look… okay?" she asked shyly, squirming a little bit and nibbling at her lips.
Taken aback, Giles could only breathe, "You're perfect," as his hands coasted up her thighs until his thumbs rested scarcely a centimetre from her slick cunt. His mouth watered. "May I?" He raised an inquiring eyebrow.
"God, please," Buffy whimpered, letting her thighs relax and fall open to expose herself completely.
Gently, Giles traced his fingers along her outer lips, already slippery with arousal. His touch was featherlight and Buffy shivered under his ministrations, her gasps the only sound in the quiet room. With every stroke of his fingertips, her cunt seemed to blush a deeper pink until Giles couldn't resist any longer; dipping his head and spreading her with a thumb on each side of her center, he delicately licked at her now quite swollen clitoris.
Her answering cry of, "Giles! Oh — oh, Giles…" was tremulous but her grip on his hair was firm. Every tug at his scalp made his cock throb dangerously and Giles groaned, finally sealing his entire mouth over Buffy's cunt to fuck her with his tongue. She was writhing under him like a wild thing; slinging her thighs over his shoulders, he let her press her heels into his back while her fingers gripped his head frantically. Giles could only hear her dimly over his own embarrassingly needy whines and obscene slurping; she was begging and praising him as she began to cant her hips, riding his mouth.
Desperately, Giles scrabbled at his button fly; he'd dripped so badly in his jeans that he was certain he must have stained them irreparably. Absently, he realized that he didn't care. Giles didn't care because all that he cared about was Buffy and her perfect cunt. She nigh-on shrieked when he pulled her clitoris into his mouth and began to suckle it, lashing it with his tongue until her entire body tensed and twitched with her climax.
Buffy was cooing softly, Giles realized dazedly as he administered soothing strokes against her opening with the flat of his tongue. He could have continued doing so all night, her soothing little sighs in his ears, had Buffy not tugged at his arms feebly. "Please, Giles — oh, please, Giles, I need you —"
Swiping at his mouth, Giles rose to his feet and gazed down at Buffy as he continued to stroke his cock steadily. Buffy answering stare was rapt as she watched him, shirtless with open jeans slung low on his hips. "Take them off," she whispered, her fingers slowly making their way between her legs; Giles had never seen anything nearly so erotic as his Slayer, entirely naked, touching herself for him.
He permitted his jeans to fall to the floor and kicked them off, letting Buffy look her fill as he crossed to the side table to snag one of the square packets kept hidden in the drawer. Tearing it open, Giles efficiently rolled on the condom and shifted to the bed. Buffy was still watching, eyes locked on Giles' cock; her gaze now a combination of arousal, fascination, and… trepidation? Struck by a sudden realization, Giles laid down and pulled Buffy to his chest in a firm embrace, rolling so that she was half on top of him. "It's occurred to me that you, erm… haven't… erm…"
"Just… once. And, um — it's been a while. Obviously. And you're, um…" Buffy trailed off with a meaningful nod towards the evidence of Giles' clear arousal. Absently, she twirled a path through his chest hair to his nipple, which pebbled under her curious little flicks.
Hiding a slightly smug smile (erection in no way deterred by this briefly calm moment), Giles replied carefully, "Yes. I'm… 'um'. Would you still like to —"
"Yes!" she blurted out quickly. After a steadying sort of breath, she added, "…but maybe slowly?"
This time Giles couldn't hide his now-tender smile and he patted Buffy's bum purposefully. "Sit up, darling."
Her answering blush was adorable as she obeyed, rising up to her knees as Giles re-situated himself so that he was half-seated against the headboard. Guiding her with his hands at her thighs, he helped her move so that she was crouched over his cock, arms braced on his shoulders. "Oh," Buffy said eloquently, looking down at where his tip was bumping tantalizingly against her clitoris.
"Whenever you're ready," Giles whispered, stroking her cheek, "you can move as slowly as you'd like. You're in control, darling."
Her answering whimper and suddenly bitten lip were very informative; Giles tucked away that observation for later consideration and (hopefully) some judicious future experimentation. Buffy immediately grasped his cock at the base and, holding him steady, began to sink down on him with what Giles felt was a torturously gradual pace. She was tight and her inner muscles gripped him with each slowly gained inch. By the time she was fully seated on him, Giles' entire body was rigid and he was holding his breath, eyes squeezed tightly closed to avoid looking at her because he was terrified he was going to come immediately…
"Giles."
Buffy's little whine had him snapping his eyes open and he gritted out,"God, Buffy, please move — I-I need —" Giles broke off with a harsh groan as Buffy suddenly rose almost entirely off him and then sank down, her movements initially uneven until she figured out the mechanics. Then she was fucking him and Giles could only grasp her hips for dear life and watch as her tits jostled with every grinding movement. He was desperate to come but he gritted his teeth, thumbing Buffy's clitoris while she rode him until he could feel her magnificent cunt spasm impossibly tightly around him.
Buffy was gasping his name between each sobbing breath, frantically bouncing on his cock and soaking him with her release. Planting his feet flat against the mattress, Giles gripped Buffy's hips and helped her rise and fall on him in her aftermath; it took only two strokes until he was coming, thrusting up into her with all of his strength and pressing her down on him, groaning incoherently.
They slept for a while afterwards, completely entwined in his bed and not bothering to even pretend to make themselves decent. The first time Giles woke, it was to the awareness that curious fingers were playing with his (quite, quite hard) cock. When he made known that he was awake, Buffy whispered, "Can I try something?"
"Anything," he whispered back sleepily as he stretched out on his back, bemused and indulgent.
And then Giles nearly disgraced himself because Buffy dove beneath the covers and began lapping at his cockhead like it was a fucking ice-cream. She teased and kitten-licked at his copiously leaking cock for ages before Giles, desperate, finally yanked Buffy up and positioned her on hands and knees before snagging another condom and fucking her from behind until she soaked him again with her climax.
It was scarcely light out when they woke the second time; Buffy's spectacular arse was snugged against Giles' cock, which rapidly hardened as he gained both consciousness and awareness of his position. He laid there, sleepy and turned-on, content to hold Buffy as she slept on. He wasn't certain how much time passed as he drifted in and out before Buffy was guiding one of his hands to her breast and the other down to her center. Gently, he brushed his lips along the line of her neck and began to touch her with slow, light strokes.
"Tease," he heard her grumble and he giggled softly, tracing through her slick folds as he intentionally avoided her clitoris. She arched and rubbed her bum invitingly against his cock. Then, so quietly Giles barely heard it, Buffy asked, "Can you — w-without a condom?"
Sudden need nearly consumed him. "A-are you sure?" he asked, trying to steady his shaking voice. "I-I mean to say — is it… s-safe?"
"Yeah. I-I'm covered. I just — oh God…" She trailed off with a tiny moan as Giles continued to play, both hands now gently coaxing her towards climax. "Giles, I-I need to feel you in me, please…"
Giles slid slightly lower on the bed, hitching Buffy's leg up and hooking it over his arm so that he could slide inside her. Their moans of pleasure echoed one another; if he'd thought she felt perfect before, it was nothing compared to the feeling of her slick molten heat clenching around his bare cock. "Don't move," he whispered and she obeyed with a whimper as he began to draw circles around her swollen little clitoris.
He knew the exact moment when Buffy began to come; her inner muscles began to squeeze him rhythmically and she groaned his name. In her aftermath, Giles pinched and played with her tits until she begged; then, returning to her cunt he coasted his fingers along where she was stretched around him. "Please, please, please…" Her voice was strained with need and so he rubbed her clitoris firmly until she spasmed and clenched.
"One more for me, darling?" Giles asked, sliding his palm against Buffy's sensitive bud. "Love the way you feel when you come…"
"Oh — oh, Giles, I can't…" Contradicting her words, Buffy arched into his touch and shifted her hips minutely on his thick length. "Please, oh please — I need… so good…" she slurred out.
He began to grind into her, scarcely able to move more than an inch or so within the vice grip of her cunt. Shifting again for purchase against the mattress, Giles froze immediately when Buffy released a startled cry. Moving as though to withdraw, he stopped when Buffy frantically clutched his hand and ordered sharply, "Do it again!"
Giles continued his steady, minute thrusts at this new angle and Buffy pressed her hand against the back of his, increasing the pressure on her clitoris. Burying his face in the crook of her neck, Giles began to murmur endearments and praise; he told her how good she was for him, how beautiful she was, how perfect she felt on his cock…
This last time, Buffy's entire body quaked with the power of her climax; she shook and wailed, her cunt clamping down on him as she gushed slick fluid all over both of them. Giles barely managed to stutter out, "C-can I — inside —" and register Buffy's high-pitched, "Yes — Giles, please" before he was shoving himself as deeply as he could, releasing an incoherent shout while waves of pleasure consumed him.
Hazy and trembling in the aftermath, Giles slowly pulled out and slid down the bed, helping Buffy shift to her back and spread her legs widely. Not giving her the opportunity to think about it, Giles slid his fingers through the soaking wet mess and whispered, "My darling, you look so very tender… I ought help…"
Buffy was twitching, overstimulated under his light touch but when he began to lick their combined fluids from her gently, she began to coo happily and stroke his hair. While he cleaned her, Giles felt Buffy's full-body shudder and heard her deep groan as she came one final time under his diligent tongue. Then, exhausted, they curled up together on the other side of the bed and fell asleep once more.
The shrill ringing of the phone startled Giles into wakefulness; grumbling under his breath, he vaguely registered Buffy clambering from the bed and padding down the stairs. Scrubbing at his face with his hand, Giles rose and reached for his glasses; she'd clearly taken his robe, as it was nowhere in sight, so Giles yanked on his joggers from the day before and a t-shirt he found on the floor before starting down after her.
"…uh, yeah, no, Will — I-I slept on Giles' couch. Super sleepy after patrolling yesterday…"
Buffy's words stopped Giles in his tracks; he was midway down the stairs and the reality of what they had done — what he had done — the night before came crashing in on him. "Fuck," he breathed. Hands suddenly trembling with nerves, Giles forced himself to continue on down the steps. Her voice was a mere echo in the background as he dragged himself into the kitchen and set to making what would likely be the strongest pot of coffee he'd made in his life. Eyes a bit wild, Giles glanced briefly at the liquor cabinet and seriously considered the contents despite the hour.
"…so, you freaking out?" Buffy had clearly hung up the telephone. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen and Giles felt a sharp pang in his chest at the sight of her in his far-too-large bathrobe.
"F-freaking out?" He blinked at her, trying to clear his head before adding, voice rough with emotion and sleep, "Oughtn't I be?"
Biting her lip, Buffy moved slowly towards Giles as though approaching a feral animal. She reached out and cautiously rested her fingers on his forearm. "I'm not freaking out. If it helps."
Giles, feeling quite vulnerable, gazed down at her and cleared his throat. "Not a moment ago, you lied to Willow about where you slept last night," he murmured, trying and failing to disregard the twinge of pain he felt.
"I-I didn't want her freaking out," Buffy said, breaking eye contact. "Not while we figure out… this."
The coffeemaker had slowed its' burbling and so Giles moved to the cupboards, relieved at the distraction. "Yes, well, I-I must admit to being somewhat baffled about the way that this has developed. Leaving aside, of course, how we shall proceed. With, erm… this." He poured coffee into mugs and rummaged in the fridge for creamer.
Buffy accepted the proffered mug and took a sip before wincingly adding more sugar. "Well. I-I don't know if we can have that kinda discussion right now? It's late and Mom wanted to go college-shopping today. So…" She still wasn't looking at him.
Pausing briefly, Giles took a steadying breath before replying in what he hoped was a breezy tone, "Well, then you'll clearly need to get dressed. I, erm, I take it that your mother believes you spent the night with Willow?"
He watched Buffy blush and attempted to banish the sudden memory of the way she had blushed on his bed the night before. "Uh, yeah. Mom called there and, uh, Willow covered. I told her I was stopping by here after we finished up yesterday so, uh, she figured you'd know where I was."
Any number of responses — none of them constructive or helpful in any way — occurred to Giles but he firmly pressed his lips together and said nothing. There was another lengthy pause before Buffy, shifting awkwardly in place, said, "Well. I guess I should get, uh, less indecent? Gotta grab a shower and a change of clothes before dorm-shopping day."
Dorm shopping. Buffy escaped upstairs and Giles cringed internally, reminded once again that it had been approximately a month and a half since high school graduation. A month and a half before having a bloody sex marathon with his Slayer without even the excuse of a curse or other influences beyond his own evidently uncontrollable sex drive. Even the vaguest thought of what he and Buffy had gotten up to scarcely hours before had his cock twitching with renewed interest; Giles glared down at it accusingly with a muttered, "Oh, stop."
"You say something?"
Buffy looked, somehow, as fresh as she had the night before and Giles became painfully aware of his messy hair and unshaven face. "N-nothing," he stammered.
Shrugging, Buffy crossed the room and headed for the door. "Okay. Well, uh — I'll see you… later?"
"Yes. Of course. Later."
After taking another scalding draught of coffee, Giles set the mug on the counter but was startled by Buffy spinning him about-face and pulling him down into a firm, passionate kiss. "Couldn't leave without that," she whispered against his lips before kissing him again and departing in a whirl of blonde hair.
5. dirty little secret
Buffy returned a few days later; a few days which had left Giles in an agony of nerves and guilt, with a hefty side of persistent arousal anytime he thought of the cause of said nerves and guilt. That was, of course, after an unfortunate episode at the Espresso Pump the afternoon following their tryst. He and Buffy, perhaps foolishly, met for a coffee and (Giles had hoped) a discussion regarding the significant change in their relationship. They had just sat down, knees brushing under the table, and Buffy's eyes were shining with a blend of emotions he was beginning to become quite familiar with when Giles heard from behind him "Oh, hey, guys!"
Willow.
Trying rather desperately not to pull a face, Giles turned to see Willow and Oz awaiting their coffee orders. "Ah. H-hello."
"Mind if we join the coffee klatch?" Willow asked, not waiting for a response as she plopped down in the chair next to Buffy and Giles internally cursed himself for having chosen a four-top table. A little clumsily, Willow jostled Buffy into Giles as she scooted her chair; to balance herself, Buffy gripped Giles' upper thigh under the table and an unexpected bolt of arousal shot through him. He cleared his throat, suddenly extremely discomfited to being well on his way to an erection in front of Willow.
"Erm —"
"Sure," Buffy said a little too brightly. Giles shot her a look and she shot him one right back, giving his thigh a warning squeeze.
Tilting his head, Oz darted another one of those annoyingly searching glances between them as he said, "Hope we're not interrupting any Slayer sensitive business."
"Nope! Just a coffee date," Buffy replied, causing Giles to choke on his latte.
It proved to be an uncomfortable, ersatz "double date" which culminated in Buffy departing with an oblivious Willow to "catch a movie" and Oz raising an unsettlingly perceptive brow at Giles before going his own way for band practice. Giles, of course, had an uneasy walk back to his flat and attempted (unsuccessfully) to bury himself in research while anxiety, by that point roiling through him, caused his throat to tighten unbearably.
Therefore, when Buffy barged into his flat those too-long days later, Giles was rather a mess and pathetically grateful when she immediately kissed him after locking the door. "God, I missed you," she mumbled, practically tackling him to the couch as she went for his belt.
"Missed you too," he managed to gasp out as she yanked open his jeans and his already stiff cock jutted out.
Straddling Giles' hips, Buffy gave his erection a quick stroke or two before pulling her skirt up and revealing that she either had removed her knickers somewhere between the door and his sofa or simply hadn't bothered with them at all. He cursed sharply at the sight of her, bare and glistening, then again when she jammed her cunt down on his cock and managed to take him in one go.
Giles hooked his hand at the back of Buffy's neck, pulling her down to kiss her hungrily as she began to ride him. Bracing her with a hand at her waist, Giles gritted his teeth against the sensation of her slick, tight little cunt and tried not to humiliate himself by coming immediately. Instead, he pressed his forehead into the crook of her neck and thumbed her clitoris while she moaned and clenched around him. The second time she began to spasm on his cock, Giles gripped her hips with both hands and shoved her down, grinding until he came shatteringly hard inside her.
A bit winded, Giles sank back into the couch as Buffy melted on top of him. He could feel himself growing soft inside her but couldn't bring himself to move or care; he found himself rather wishing that time would stop.
Unfortunately for Giles, time did not stop. It felt like scarcely a moment before Buffy was standing and moving towards the bathroom with a breezy comment tossed back at him. Glaring at his open fly, Giles started for the kitchen and a clean cloth. He'd barely made himself marginally presentable again when Buffy dashed from the bathroom, pecked him on the lips, and scampered out the front door with a brief, "Gotta go!"
It went on that way for a couple of weeks; Giles would grow tense and nervous during Buffy's increasingly lengthy absences, Buffy would rush into his flat and they would have utterly mind-blowing sex, then she would vanish again for another indeterminate period of time. At about mid-summer, Buffy came to him after patrolling and prowled her way to where he remained seated at his desk, appearing somewhat restless. Giles, attempting to play things quite cool (it had been nearly a week since he'd last seen her, and he had grown irrationally irritable over it), glanced up from his book and raised his eyebrow.
"Want something?" he asked coolly.
Buffy smiled suggestively at him. "Oh, I think you know…" she said coyly, trying to scoot her body between Giles and the desk.
Forcing his expression to remain neutral, Giles snarked back, "And I think I'm quite busy at the moment, so you shall have to entertain yourself until I'm through."
"Giiiiles…"
"We're not at home to whingeing, thank you. Wait your turn."
Buffy heaved a massive sigh and slouched against the corner of the desk, crossing her arms and watching Giles as he made occasional notes in the tiny black book next to him. She sighed several more times, fidgeted, repositioned herself… Giles found himself quite enjoying making her wait for once, rather than acting the ever-available rent boy he'd felt like of late. When Buffy drummed her fingertips so hard that the desk began to rattle, Giles snapped the text closed and tossed his pen somewhere near the notebook.
"Do you think what you're doing is an adequate example of a person waiting patiently?" he asked in his driest tone, tilting his head up at Buffy.
"I feel like I was being extremely patient," she began but Giles waved her quiet.
"Buffy, I'm asking you if you think that what you were just doing was at all patient?"
She paused, then said suggestively, "…what would you do if I wasn't patient?"
Giles bit his lower lip before taking the bait and murmuring, "Do you want to be punished?"
The extensive pause that followed made him wonder if he'd gone a bit too far before Buffy arched towards him, whispering, "How would you punish me?"
Slowly, Giles rose to his feet and, for the first time, used his size to his advantage so that he could tower over Buffy. She gazed up at him steadily, challenging him to make his next move. His voice low, Giles bent and, lips brushing the shell of Buffy's ear, said, "If something happens that you dislike, say 'nox' and I'll stop. Alright?"
"Nox," she repeated breathlessly. "Okay."
Giles straightened and placed his hands on Buffy's hips. "Turn around," he ordered. "Bend over the desk. It's time you learned patience, Buffy."
He heard an unmistakable whimper escape her as she obeyed; gently, he rested his hand against the middle of her back and pressed her down so that her chest was flush to the wooden surface. Her head was turned to the side and her cheek rested on her folded hands. After taking a deep, steadying breath, Giles reached underneath Buffy's skirt (she generally wore skirts anymore when she visited and her reasoning was no mystery) and yanked her knickers sharply so they dropped to her ankles. Buffy's gasp was gratifying.
Stooping, Giles picked up the tiny scrap of lace and examined them, remarking, "This, Buffy, is a very silly little pair of knickers. One would think you'd come here expecting to show them to someone."
Buffy squirmed; Giles could see her thighs rub together under the swaying fabric of her skirt. "I thought you might like them…" she said, sounding a little uncertain.
"Oh, I very much do," Giles replied, tossing them casually onto the desk where Buffy could see them before slowly dragging his fingers up her inner thighs to ghost against her already sopping wet cunt. He bit his lip, forcing himself to keep his touch featherlight and intentionally avoiding her clitoris as he slipped the very tip of his finger along the cut of her.
"Giles…" Buffy's voice was strained as she squirmed under his ministrations, shifting her hips and trying to get him to touch her the way that she wanted to be touched.
He withdrew entirely from her, stepping back and watching Buffy writhe as he tutted, "Ah — Buffy, I believe you were meant to be learning patience."
"I didn't think it would involve you being such a tease," Buffy grumbled.
Leaning down, Giles nipped her earlobe and said quietly, "Judging by how soaked you already are, I believe the lady doth protest too much." In a swift motion, he gripped the sides of her skirt and gave it a tug, letting it flutter to the floor and leaving Buffy wearing only her skin-tight top. "Spread your legs."
Buffy's cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she widened her stance until her feet were planted a shoulder's breadth apart, exposing her cunt to Giles' avid gaze. He simply stood behind her, not touching, just feasting his eyes on Buffy. He heard her say something so quietly he couldn't make it out and when he asked her to repeat herself, there was a lengthy pause before she breathed, "Please, Giles — I-I need you to touch me, please…"
Gratified, Giles felt a lazy smile spread across his lips as he whispered, "Good girl" and the punched-out, guttural moan that Buffy released made his cock throb. Unable to practice any more self-restraint, Giles knelt behind her, gripped Buffy's arse with both hands, and began to delicately lap at her slit from behind. She gave a low shout and canted her hips back against his tongue; he allowed her to, closing his eyes and blissfully burying his face between her legs. His cock pressed uncomfortably against his button-fly and Giles flicked it open, shoving his pants down just enough to free his erection.
Giles dimly heard Buffy crying out his name as she convulsed around his tongue; greedy, he pressed his face closer and focused his laving attentions upon Buffy's swollen clitoris while his neglected cock leaked steadily. He knew he was being sloppy but Buffy didn't seem to care, her sweet little moans growing louder as he messily sucked and lashed his tongue against her until she was coming again, all over his face, and Giles loved it.
"Please, please, please, please…" Buffy was whimpering, arching her back and presenting her pert little arse to Giles as he stood, swiping his glistening chin with his sleeve.
"What do you need, darling?" Giles murmured, sliding his hand around her hips and playing about between her legs again. "You've been so good…"
"Oh, god," she choked out, twitching under his fingers. "You, Giles — I-I need you — i-inside me now, now —"
With a shaking hand, Giles quickly lined himself up with her opening, her slick coating his cockhead before he rapped her arse sharply with his palm and shoved his thick length inside her in one go. "Impatient girl," he growled and remained still, fully sheathed in her tight heat as he desperately tried to maintain control. "Ask nicely."
"Please f-fuck me."
Something gave way within him and Giles, self-control utterly shattered, began to snap his hips sharply against Buffy's firm little arse as she wailed, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the smooth desktop. He could hear someone groaning and it took a moment before he realized it was him; his sac was drawing up and he knew he was going to come but he needed to feel her come around him. Giles began to trace circles around Buffy's clitoris as he continued to fuck into her roughly and she was whimpering, meeting his every stroke eagerly.
Scarcely realizing what he was doing as Buffy's inner muscles began to contract around him, Giles brought his hand back and slapped Buffy's arse. Buffy released a shocked-sounding yelp and came hard, cunt clamping down so suddenly that Giles could only grind out his own release, scarcely able to move as he clenched his teeth against the harsh shout attempting to escape his throat.
Ears ringing, Giles was barely able to remain on his feet, still fully sheathed inside Buffy as he panted and desperately tried to get his breath back. She was limp underneath him and he could feel her trembling; gently, Giles withdrew and turned Buffy around, lifting her gently to sit on the desk and pulling her into his arms.
She protested lamely, "N-no, Giles, I'll make a mess —"
"It'll wash," he replied, stroking her hair and willing his heart to stop racing. Closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to hers, hoping, he asked, "Stay tonight? I-I'd very much like to hold you for a while."
Her answering nod of assent was like a gift.
Later, as they lay entwined in his bed, Buffy casually mentioned that she had to go to Los Angeles to visit her father for two weeks and that she would be departing the following day.
Giles attempted to ignore the twisting sensation in his chest at the idea of not seeing her for such a lengthy period of time. Clearing his throat, he wished her a fine time with (in his opinion) her rather neglectful father. He, of course, left out the "rather neglectful" bit when he said it. She kissed him lingeringly and dropped off to sleep with a happy little sigh, her cheek nestled against his breastbone.
Buffy's father. Giles had met him exactly once; in reality, of course — Giles tended to not count nightmares come to life, although one could argue that the occasion in question had been something of a nightmare. He'd noted absently at the time that Buffy resembled her father somewhat and, circumstances being quite different, it hadn't bothered him that Hank Summers appeared to be scarcely older than Giles himself. At the time, Giles had been dating Jenny Calendar and Hank, glimpsing her photograph on his desk in the library as Buffy fetched her bag, had remarked, "Man after my own heart."
"Pardon?" Giles had asked, blinking in polite bafflement while attempting to hide the title of the ancient text he'd been studying.
Hank, with a smirk unsettlingly similar to the one Buffy sported whilst baiting Giles, said shamelessly, "The younger models last the longest, if you get me."
Appalled and not a little offended, Giles had been unable to reply before Buffy rejoined them and dragged Hank from the library. Now, quite naked with the man's equally naked daughter draped across him, Giles cringed as the reality of the dubious nature of their arrangement became quite clear. He squeezed his eyes closed, willing the growing feelings of guilt and shame away.
The Espresso Pump was, of course, rather crowded when Giles emerged from his studies. He'd realized that the one benefit to Buffy's absences was that he had, at the very least, improved his productivity and silenced Crowley's querulous grumblings. Having made quite some progress on an initial draft of his findings in the Codex, Giles had taken his somewhat creaky joints on an aimless stroll which had brought him to the bustling coffee shop. As it was the only coffee shop in town, the Espresso Pump was generally quite busy and Giles stood patiently in the queue.
A bright, musical laugh echoed in his ears and, for a moment, Giles thought he might be hallucinating. The rational part of his mind informed him that he was being quite absurd; shaking himself, he turned vaguely in the direction of the laughter and was met with the sight of Buffy and Willow chattering over whipped cream-topped cups. He smiled automatically, admiring the way that Buffy's hair gleamed golden in the sunlight, before an unpleasant thought occurred to him:
Buffy was meant to be in Los Angeles with her father. Buffy had clearly returned several days early. Buffy hadn't told him.
Going suddenly cold as the smile slid from his face, Giles felt color rise swiftly to his cheeks and his previously easy nerves began to jangle. Deciding that he no longer cared for or needed a coffee, he abruptly changed direction, nearly bumping into the out-sized young man behind him as he moved towards the door.
"Oh, hey, Giles!"
Wincing, Giles took a shallow breath before turning to face Willow, who beamed up at him. "Long time no see!" she exclaimed brightly, waving eagerly. "How goes it, Mr. Academic-Guy? Didn't you know summers are for non-reading things?"
He forced a little laugh and, with a swift glance at Buffy (who appeared utterly indifferent to his presence) said, "Well, all play and no work, you know…"
"I getcha. Did, uh, you come here for an afternoon pick-me-up?" Willow asked, appearing to be blissfully oblivious to Giles' discomfort.
"Ah, I had considered it but, erm — w-well, the queue is a bit long so I was just leaving." He glanced at Buffy again, who was smiling and nodding at him.
Willow nodded sagely. "Yeah, we got lucky and beat the crowd. Good thing, right? In a month or so it's gonna get even worse when all the college-people get into town. I'm just glad Buffy got back early from LA!"
Giles cleared his throat and, as though in a trance, heard himself asking, "Ah, yes — you'd mentioned seeing your father, Buffy. W-when did you, erm, return?"
The answer justified the dread starting to fill him. "Oh, Dad had to go on a last-minute work thing to Rome and of courseMom said I couldn't go with, so I got back a few days ago," Buffy said, eyes shifting away from him as she sipped her coffee.
"Ah."
The silence between them was excruciating.
Once again clearing his throat, Giles said in a falsely light tone, "W-well, I ought to be off. Codices don't dissect themselves."
As he walked away, Giles bitterly contemplated how depressingly inevitable that encounter had been.
Buffy burst into his flat early in the evening, rushing to the kitchen where Giles was distracting himself by cooking a rather complex chicken dish.
"I'm sorry," she said breathlessly, wringing her hands. "I was so thrown by Dad cutting things short and then Mom got all 'quality time' focused and then Will caught me on my way here when I finally got away —"
"It's alright, Buffy," Giles replied, trying not to permit his tone to contradict him. "I quite understand — obviously, things happen. I don't take it personally." He hoped desperately that he sounded carefree rather than tense, no small amount of anger flickering within him at Buffy's utter lack of consideration.
There was a brief silence, then —
"…oh." Buffy blinked rapidly, then moved an inch or so closer to peer searchingly at his determinedly neutral face. "So… you're not mad?"
"Mad? Quite possibly — in the English sense of the word, mind. Angry?" He tried to maintain his cool as he lied by omission. "Certainly not."
"Well, good." She was nearly touching him and Giles wanted to tell her (he was hurt and confused because surely even their previously platonic friendship warranted a bloody call at least) but the words stubbornly refused to come out. Instead, Buffy continued, "Very good. 'Cause there's better things to do than argue…"
The wooden spoon clattered to the countertop as Buffy slid her arms up around Giles' neck, pulling him down into a mind-meltingly passionate kiss. Delicately, he took off his glasses and let them drop next to the spoon before backing her up against the counter below the pass-through. She was touching him, moving her hands down to grip his arse and he licked into her mouth as he slid his thigh between her legs. Just as Buffy pulled his hand up to cup her breast, Giles heard the front door rattle and panic shot through him. She hadn't locked the door.
Launching himself to the opposite counter, Giles fumbled for his glasses and tried to catch his breath as Willow and Oz walked in, calling out greetings. Buffy, he noticed out of the corner of his eye, was blushing but otherwise unruffled. His heart gave an unpleasant lurch as he heard her agree to join the others at the Bronze.
Olivia was visiting when Giles saw Buffy next. It was inopportune timing, obviously; Giles thought defensively that it wasn't Buffy's business who visited him or for what purpose, as she'd made it abundantly clear in the month that passed with nothing that she didn't care. After stammering out awkwardly that Buffy had been his student (a technical truth but in actuality quite the lie, he'd been a school librarian, it wasn't as though she'd read history under him), Buffy had blurted out an extraordinarily offensive comment about his age and Giles had quite the time keeping himself from shooting back that she hadn't seemed to mind his age every time she'd ripped his clothing off over the summer.
Giles attempted to squash the uneasy, illogical part of him that felt as though he had cheated on Buffy with Olivia. They hadn't been exclusive. They hadn't been anything.
Instead, leveling an eloquently critical glare upon her, Giles asked her what exactly the issue was. He wasn't proud of the way he responded to Buffy's request for help; the flash of hurt in her eyes hadn't escaped him and guilt prickled as Olivia asked if Giles had been able to help. Even after he'd driven Olivia to the airport and raced after Buffy, weapons in hand, Giles knew that something had gone rather badly wrong between them and he simply didn't know how they could recover.
6. bad light — domesticity and other downfalls
Giles spent an absurd amount of time avoiding Buffy during her Parker mess; after watching her return to her dormitory (and rather wishing Willow were anywhere else so they could hash things out once and for all), Giles didn't fancy a repeat performance, no matter his objective appreciation for watching Buffy take off her clothing. The effect, he determined, was rather spoiled when the clothing-removal happened immediately after Buffy had clearly fucked some idiot boy with an even more idiotic name.
Against his will, Giles responded to Xander's plea for assistance in handling Buffy's beer-induced evolutionary regression. Adding insult to injury, Buffy's primitive assertion that "boy smell nice" (and the boy was Xander of all people, which had made matters all the more concerning) caused Giles' hackles to rise; the injury, of course, was quite literal, as Buffy'd rather handily knocked him into a wall and the resulting bruise smarted.
He hadn't wanted to bring Neolithic Buffy back to his flat; however, she could scarcely return to the dorm in her compromised state and so Giles resigned himself to distracting her from seeking out more boys. After scrounging about and locating one of the terrible romantic comedies which Buffy had inflicted upon him over the summer (he refused to admit he'd kept When Harry Met Sally because he had oddly tender feelings over friends falling in love), Giles managed to get Buffy to make herself a sort of nest out of blankets on the far end of the sofa while he provided her with occasional snacks to distract her from writing on his walls.
It was inevitable, Giles supposed, when Buffy squinted at him after a time and said decisively, "Like Giles." Then, with a head-tilt and a raised eyebrow, she added thoughtfully, "Giles smell good."
Exhaling slowly out through his nose, Giles said quietly, "Yes, thank you. Buffy —"
Giles found himself unable to continue speaking; Buffy had emerged from her nest and was crawling across the sofa, hips moving with a primal sort of grace as she slid into his lap. Nuzzling his jaw, she murmured, "Buffy like Giles," in a way that made him embarrassingly hard.
"Giles likes Buffy," he whispered back, biting his lower lip hard before placing hands on her hips to stop her rubbing on him. "Buffy needs sleep. Or she'll have a monstrous hangover tomorrow."
"Buffy sleep with Giles?" she asked hopefully, nibbling his earlobe.
Pressing his forehead to hers, Giles smiled softly as he nodded and said, "Yes, darling. Buffy sleep with Giles."
They went to bed, Buffy in Giles' workout shorts and an undershirt and Giles in his pajama bottoms. Buffy enthusiastically kissed him for a very long time before curling up possessively around him and going to sleep. (She'd made several gestures at discovering exactly what their anatomical differences were but Giles, fighting his baser urges, deterred her gently.) Giles wanted the night to last forever; he lay awake for a very long time, gently feeling for the tangles in Buffy's hair and working them out while she slumbered peacefully. His heart swelled every time she shifted and nuzzled her face against his chest and he wistfully thought back to how desperately he missed their summer intimacy. He didn't know quite when he dropped off to sleep, but loathed himself the following morning after he had woken up alone and read Buffy's note, wishing guiltily that the beer hadn't worn off.
Buffy, Giles decided, had grown a bit too comfortable in his flat. Leaving the occasional clothing behind was one thing (the top drawer in his wardrobe had been co-opted by Buffy since early July); celebrating American Thanksgiving with enough food for a legion in his flat was simply quite another. For approximately the seventy-seventh time that afternoon, Giles considered knicking Buffy's keys and dumping all of the holiday nonsense at her place.
When he threatened to do so, Buffy cast a promising sort of glance up at him through her eyelashes and said coyly, "Well, if we did all the holiday nonsense at my place, we'd have a harder time doing this…" as she gently pushed him towards the back corner of the kitchen and whispered kisses against the underside of his jaw.
"Buffy…" Giles whispered, tilting his head back and trying to control his ragged breathing. His skin tingled under her gentle ministrations and he tried not to react but his control snapped when she began to toy with his belt. Swiftly, Giles turned them about and hoisted Buffy onto the counter, her giggle like music to him as he ducked his head and kissed her smiling lips.
She made a tiny little contented noise, arching towards him and pulling him so that his hips were slotted between her thighs while she raked her fingers through his hair. Giles hummed his pleasure, licking into Buffy's mouth and sliding his arms around her. He never wanted to stop kissing her but a certain irrefutable fact lurking in his back room had Giles disengaging slowly.
Buffy pouted becomingly but, when Giles gently reminded her that they needed to look into the situation unfolding at the university, conceded his point and departed with a firm, "And don't touch the food!"
"Oh, I shall try to restrain myself from eating raw potatoes and cranberries," Giles snarked at Buffy's retreating back, shaking his head. "What do you think?" he asked as Angel drifted out from his spare room.
Angel was, in his typical manner, a maddening combination of cryptic and enlightening; however, Giles bit his tongue and chose not to engage further. Unfortunately, Angel's ability to voice unpleasant truths remained present; it was both deeply unwelcome and effective at penetrating Giles' determined aloofness.
"So, you two. You're… a thing now, I guess?" Angel asked, his tone ringing with a false offhandedness.
Giles rolled his eyes. "…and what, exactly, should lead to you that assumption?" he countered, trying his level best to keep from revealing anything at all.
"Your scent. She's all over you," Angel said, shaking his head before darting a pained glance back up at Giles. "Also? I can hear. You were kissing her. Right over there, unless I need to get my ears checked." He gestured towards the far corner of the kitchen.
Giles flushed, looking anywhere aside from the afore-mentioned corner. Clearing his throat, he muttered, "Hm. 'A thing'. Your phrasing is uncharacteristically apt."
Angel, to his credit, merely looked disgruntled. "She's young, Giles —"
"Oh, fuck off," Giles snapped, leveling a glare at Angel. "I'm more than aware of our disparate ages, thank you. As a reminder to you, do allow me to introduce myself — pot? Nice to meet you, I'm kettle."
"I get that you think I'm being hypocritical, Giles, but Buffy and me broke up for a reason."
"Just so." Walking to the kitchen, Giles pulled a bottle of scotch from the sideboard and intentionally didn't offer any to his unwelcome guest. "I should like to note that your age is simply a side-effect of the reason for your separation from Buffy, as you well know."
With a sharp glance, Angel said with a critically raised brow, "Nice mental gymnastics there —"
Giles set the bottle back down rather harder than necessary. "You've broken up, as you've pointed out; therefore, this business? It's none of yours. Now kindly bugger off and figure out whatever your vague friend has you so concerned over."
Black trench swirling in his wake, Angel swept to the door but paused with his hand on the knob before half-turning to say, "Look — I know I've got Buffy issues. I'm not over her. But…" He shook his head and muttered, "If it's not meant to work with us then… I don't think there's anyone except you that gets her."
"I wasn't asking for your blessing, old man," Giles replied sharply, surprising himself by his own defensiveness.
"Wasn't offering it," Angel shot back as he stalked away.
Giles took a long sip of scotch and glared at his front door. "Berk."
Buffy was, quite understandably, very upset with him. After the uncomfortable Thanksgiving dinner ended and the others (also understandably) fled, Buffy cleared the table silently and went to the kitchen to clatteringly start the washing-up. After securing an objecting Spike in the bathtub (a temporary solution to their newest pest-problem), Giles joined her, picking up a dish towel and extending a hand for the plate she'd just rinsed. She ignored him, keeping her eyes cast firmly downwards as she shoved it into the overstuffed dish rack.
"I'm sorry," Giles murmured, stroking his fingers along Buffy's spine.
She jerked away, finally looking up. Her eyes were exhausted and just so very sad; a guilty pang struck Giles directly to his heart. "Are you sorry?" she asked quietly, her face twisting against the emotions clearly overwhelming her. "Or are you just saying it so we go back to how we were?"
Taken aback, Giles blinked rapidly; for once, he had no words at his disposal to explain himself. "B-Buffy —"
"You know what? I get it. We kinda had a thing, you decided to get all casual with it —"
"I — hang on, I decided?" Giles demanded, confusion and outrage flooding him in equal measure as the memories of Buffy's hot-and-cold behavior flashed through his mind. "What d'you mean, I decided?"
"Oh, come on — I get busy with a major life transition and you get all busy with a model! A model, Giles? Mid-life crisis much?" Buffy glared accusingly at him. "Then I want to have a nice Thanksgiving with you —"
Giles' jaw dropped, outrage rapidly overcoming confusion as he processed Buffy's impression of the manner in which events had played out between them. "Now, see here — you're in no way an innocent party; it had been a bloody month since we'd spoken on the phone, you and I, let alone seen one another. A-and another thing, I recall a certain arsehole by the name of Parker with whom you were quite obsessed —"
"Don't you throw Parker in my face!"
"Then don't throw Olivia in mine!"
They were nearly nose to nose by this point; Buffy's eyes were like fire and she'd abandoned the dishes, instead advancing on Giles and backing him up until the edge of the countertop dug into him uncomfortably. "You know better than almost anyone what Angel put me through," she hissed and Giles could see the hurt lurking behind her anger. "He came back and you lied to me. Lied, Giles."
Deflating, Giles cautiously slid his hands to Buffy's hips; he was gratified when she didn't pull away. "I never wanted to. He-he said there'd been a vision; he was vague about it, evidently someone he knows can see the future. He said you were in danger and that if you knew of his presence, you'd be in even worse danger. I-it scared me enough that I agreed not to tell you. I'm sorry. That was a mistake and I do regret it. It won't happen again."
Buffy's tense little shoulders relaxed minutely. "I haven't forgiven you yet," she warned while slowly tracing a slightly damp fingertip along his jaw. "But." Biting her lip, she glanced up at him through her eyelashes and Giles' breath caught in his throat at how how entirely lovely she looked. "I suppose you could start making it up to me…?"
"Oh? And how shall I go about doing that?" Giles lifted his eyebrow, hoping…
"I think you can figure it out…" A faint little smile tugged at Buffy's lips and Giles leaned down and brushed a kiss along the corner, gratified at the way she leaned into him.
She held his wrists immobile, his palms flat to the counter behind him as she plundered his mouth, arching and rubbing tantalizingly against him. Giles could only kiss her back helplessly, his entire being so entirely wrapped up in her that he could only beg the fates that she would want to stay with him that night — he suddenly found himself quite desperate to show her how very, very much she meant to him. Buffy trailed kisses down his throat and along the collar of his jumper, whisper-light caresses that made him whimper at the back of his throat and murmur, "Oh — oh, Buffy, please…"
"Oi! If you're going to have a snog the least you could do is bring in the telly to drown it out!" Spike bellowed from the bathtub.
They both froze; Giles inhaled deeply as Buffy released his wrists. "Ah," he said, unable to suppress a pained wince. "Our guest."
"Yep. We should, um…" Buffy stepped back and fidgeted in place. "Yeah."
"You ought to head home," Giles suggested, raging internally. He missed her; they'd been clearly headed towards a long-overdue rendezvous in his bed and… Pinching the bridge of his nose, Giles exhaled then smiled, hoping he didn't look as strained as he felt. "You've done quite enough for the day. I'll take care of the washing up and deal with the English patient. Have a rest, darling."
Blinking rapidly, Buffy tilted her head. "Are you sure?" she asked, a clear question in her eyes.
"Quite." Giles knew his smile wasn't meeting his eyes, so he turned towards the sink. "Go on. It's likely best — two's company and so on."
"…and so on," Buffy repeated softly.
There was a long pause, then Giles felt the pressure of her hand and he sighed as he turned his face to tuck his cheek against her palm. "Buffy…"
Her eyes were bright with indescribable emotion. Giles felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest, wondering desperately if this was the moment that Buffy would acknowledge that their relationship had deepened. Her tenderly whispered, "Kiss me goodnight?" made his heart fill with the warmest hope.
"Alright," Giles whispered back, hands resting on her waist as he pulled her to him and slid his mouth across hers. They kissed lingeringly, exploring each other; Giles licked delicately into Buffy's mouth and she sighed, meeting his every caress. Finally, after several moments (and Spike's increasingly irritable complaints), they parted and Giles breathed, "G'night."
"Goodnight," Buffy replied, smiling luminously before slipping out the door.
From the bathroom, there came a snippy: "Yeah, goodnight. Now stop snogging and bring me something to eat! This is a violation of the Geneva Convention! I'm a foreign national!"
Rolling his eyes when Spike began shout-singing "We Shall Overcome", Giles went to the freezer and rummaged about for the bag of blood Angel had stowed there at the start of the long, confusing, interminable holiday. When he discovered later that Buffy had run immediately to Los Angeles, Giles (with Spike's commentary ringing in his ears) got monumentally, paralytically drunk.
Chapter 4
Chapter by guin_ramble
Summary:
Giles lives in both ambiguity and hope. He's always been a complicated man; his complexity pales in comparison to that of his Slayer.
Notes:
Groveling thanks to The_Crazy_Knight, who spent far too much time having to listen to me whine about losing a chunk of this chapter due to a technological difficulties. And to Ellipsus, who did their very best and worked quite hard to try and retrieve it for me. (Sorry for the porn, Ellipsus Tech Guy. Or you're welcome? I don't know your life.)
Chapter Text
"And we won't be together much longer
Unless we realize that we are the same
ever fallen in love with someone you shouldn't have fallen in love with...
(we are the same)"
-"ever fallen in love" The Buzzcocks, 1978
7. something new
After Buffy returned from Los Angeles, Giles became somewhat resigned to the clear indications that Buffy was no longer interested in their more… physical pursuits. Even training itself fell by the wayside with the entirely predictable university cultural overwhelm. He had told himself countless times throughout the summer that Buffy was young; therefore, it was natural that she should want to experience different sorts of relationships. And, he reminded himself, it wasn't as though theirs had been one that wouldn't have drawn significant attention had there been any more to it than covert sex. Which was, of course, all there had been to it. Sex.
When Willow had called him, excitedly telling him the plan for a surprise birthday party for Buffy, Giles voiced his misgivings. Another surprise party seemed chancey, considering their track record thus far. The unvoiced misgiving, of course, was that Buffy's birthday provided Giles with an unpleasant reminder of how fucking young she was. Willow, of course, blithely disregarded the first factor and was entirely ignorant about the implications of the second.
Giles, somewhat resigned to being the oldest person in the room anymore, initially took no notice but became increasingly self-conscious as more and more unfamiliar college students filed into the room. When Buffy had finally burst in (fully armed, Giles had told Willow not to use that idiotic fire-breathing demon story) she was accompanied by a blandly handsome young man. He looked thoroughly boring.
His name was Riley. Giles was almost startled by the intense hatred he felt when Buffy introduced him, announcing with a nervous smile, "I have someone I want you to meet. This is Riley Finn — my boyfriend."
Of course. Obviously, Buffy had done exactly as Giles had predicted she would; she'd found herself a Teutonic university boyfriend. And boy, Giles noted sourly as he attempted to ignore the prickle of jealousy at the sight of Buffy holding Riley's hand, he certainly was.
Thoughts racing, Giles found himself staring blankly for a moment as he attempted to absorb this new information. He oughtn't be jealous. It was quite unreasonable; after all, he'd recently had Olivia back to visit and Buffy hadn't appeared particularly bothered. (It was likely best that neither he nor Buffy could talk at the time, Giles reflected, as neither tended to comport themselves well whilst together in Olivia's presence. Not, of course, that it made any difference at all, as Olivia had predictably broken things off when she had departed.) Shaking himself, he managed to summon a somewhat pinched smile in the direction of the irritatingly tall boy in an effort to be civil.
Giles murmured platitudes until the hapless pretty boy asked him about his retirement and Giles fervently began to pray for death; his own or Riley's, he wasn't certain which was preferable. As the evening went on, Buffy was distracted; her new boyfriend, new friends, new life all appeared thoroughly diverting. Eyeing the clock, Giles determined that he'd stayed a polite length of time and took his leave. On his way out of the building, he quietly slipped into Buffy's unlocked dormitory room to place a small, meticulously wrapped box onto her bedside table.
His irritation did not diminish the following day when, unable to locate Buffy, he encountered that Walsh woman and was promptly dismissed. Foul mood mounting as the bloody demon refused to appear, Willow's unwitting disclosures about Riley and the Walsh woman caused Giles' temper to finally snap. Promptly noting the concerned glances that passed between Xander and Willow, Giles dismissed them with a sigh; he hadn't any hope of the demon making an appearance but he was loathe to say more than he ought to have and thoroughly humiliate himself further. Scarcely a moment after their departure, Giles heard a scuffling and, with a glare, he started to follow Jonathan. Low murmur and let himself back into the crypt.
"Oh — bugger, I thought you'd gone!"
A grim smile curved Giles' lips. Finally, the day was looking up. "Ethan Rayne…"
Ethan sputtered incredulously into his beer. "You've been having it off with the Slayer? You?"
"You needn't sound so skeptical," Giles sniffed after taking a lengthy draught of his third pint. "She'd been in a long-term relationship with a vampire, for fucks' sake; Watchers getting their Slayers off is bloody traditional by comparison. Besides," he added, raising an admonishing eyebrow at Ethan, "she's found a younger model, so I've moved on, as well."
With an eloquent snort, Ethan took a shot and chased it with a healthy swig from his own pint. "I've no doubt she's gotten some toy boy to play with, Ripper, she is a pretty little thing to the objective eye. I think you're very wrong if you believe you've 'moved on'. Ah-ah —" He waved off Giles' indignant protests. "Ripper, old boy, can you look me dead in the eye and tell me that you'd be getting thoroughly pissed in a bar with me of all people — without even roughing me up a little — if you weren't bothered by Buffy boffing someone else?" After a moment of contemplation, Ethan released a snort of mirth.
Giles directed a flat, unamused stare towards Ethan, who had started giggling.
"'Boffing Buffy', ah, that's a good one." Ethan continued to chuckle to himself while Giles pointedly ignored him and drained the last of his beer.
When Giles woke the next morning, he dimly recalled Ethan's warnings regarding the Initiative through his blindingly awful hangover and made a decision to wait on telling Buffy. He also made a firm agreement with himself to forget his rather embarrassing display after Ethan assisted him back to his flat; he muzzily recalled sloppily kissing his former lover before stripping down to the altogether in a spectacularly failed seduction.
"You're pissed, old boy," Ethan had said, laughing and slapping Giles' bare arse before dumping him on his bed and leaving. Giles' cock, undeterred by the amount of alcohol he'd consumed, had stirred interestedly at the sting but, after blearily scrambling into a pair of pyjama bottoms, he'd been unable to pursue the urge. Passing out had a tendency to dampen one's sex drive, after all. Dry-mouthed and bleary-eyed, Giles made his way to the stairs and hoped he'd not run out of ibuprofen.
All of his thoughts and drunken regrets promptly fled, however, when Giles glanced in the mirror and the horror set in.
By the time he and Buffy began the lengthy journey back to his flat, Giles had become somewhat numb to humiliation; the events of the day had done nothing whatever for his ego or his pride. He'd nearly told Buffy to go with her boyfriend when she firmly informed him that she would be walking him home. Her expression, however, had brooked no argument and Giles had subsided without further protest. Ethan's questionable wardrobe was not conducive to reclaiming one's dignity, particularly after finding himself nude in front of not one but two former lovers.
Well. In front of one, underneath the other. Buffy hurriedly ordered the stone-faced soldiers out of the room, Riley hesitating momentarily before Buffy raised her eyebrows meaningfully at him. He'd had the good grace to blush before vacating and closing the door behind him, at the very least. Buffy was perfectly positioned; positioned, he firmly corrected himself, to mostly hide the fact that Giles' abused pyjama bottoms had finally given up the good fight. He flushed when he saw Buffy's unmistakable downwards glance before scrambling off him to find a towel.
"Couldn't have picked a smaller demon?" Giles asked dryly, attempting to conceal his rapidly hardening cock behind his hands as he stood. (He'd always had a slight exhibitionist streak and he'd come back to himself with Buffy straddling him; his response to the combination was both instantaneous and depressingly Pavlovian.) "Destroying my clothing seems a step too far." Deep red suffused his cheeks when he realized that Buffy was sneaking surreptitious peeks at him as she hastily provided what could charitably be called a hand towel for coverage. Rather desperately, he clutched it over the most vital areas while Buffy searched through Ethan's luggage.
Ethan snorted. "Nothing we haven't seen before, eh, Buffy?" he said with a smirk, then grunted when Giles edged close enough to backhand him. "I was speaking generally, Ripper!"
Carefully, Giles pressed the towel more securely across his groin whilst avoiding Buffy's sharp glance. She handed Giles a pair of trousers and an obscenely gaudy shirt; he dropped the towel and immediately dressed, gritting his teeth against the knowledge that Buffy was watching him (his now rather more urgent erection completely undeterred by her direct gaze) again while blocking Ethan's view of him.
"Enjoying the show?" Giles snarked, not missing the way that Buffy was biting her lip as she stared with blatant interest at him while he carefully fastened the too-tight trousers.
Looking startled, Buffy gave herself a shake. "Sorry! Uh, s-sorry. These were the least-ugly ones I could find," she said apologetically over Ethan's renewed sniggering before opening the room door to permit the soldiers to enter.
After obtaining Ethan's extra pair of shoes — they pinched but would do the job and prevent Giles from spending any more time near Riley — Giles expressed his intention to walk home, citing a need for air. He truly didn't want to be around Buffy, if it came to that; while feeling somewhat numb, it rankled that he'd had to seek out assistance from Spike of all creatures. It also did not escape him that Buffy had clearly not missed him enough to know he'd gone full-demon until the evening. The additional sting of Riley's reassurance that Ethan was "in secure hands, sir" made him itch to knock the young idiot to the ground; as he'd been dying to connect his fist with Riley's entirely punchable face since their first meeting, Giles reasoned that the impulse couldn't be attributed to a side effect of Ethan's curse. Thus, it irritated him greatly that Buffy, after murmuring something to Riley, joined him.
"So," Buffy said, hands jammed in her pockets.
"So," Giles replied intelligently before shaking his head with a sigh, thoroughly fed up with himself, and adding, "I'm sorry, Buffy. I-I acted recklessly."
Buffy sighed heavily. "Giles, I'm pretty sure we already agreed that there's big fault on both sides of this one."
"So…" Tilting his head, Giles lifted a brow and glanced inquiringly at Buffy's perplexed, gorgeous face. She'd been about to say something and he wished she'd just have at it already.
"…those demon orgies you mentioned before — did you and Ethan ever, um…" Buffy lifted her own eyebrows meaningfully. "You know."
Wincing, Giles wearily replied, "The short answer is yes, we did and the long answer is one I don't tell anyone, so don't ask." He cleared his throat, fighting and failing the urge to say, "And in the event that you were curious, even though it's absolutely none of your concern, we haven't since."
He didn't miss the way her tense shoulders relaxed. Annoyance prickled at him and he tamped it down; Buffy had been possessive of him from the start, regardless of any other feelings. Feeling a bit possessive himself, he couldn't prevent the question burning within him from emerging. "So, erm…" He scuffed at the gravel on the road. "This boyfriend of yours. H-how long have you been dating?"
There was a lengthy pause.
"Dating? Not long." Then, a little defensively, "It was… casual until the last time Olivia was around."
Giles huffed out a breath, thinking privately that the presence of someone whom Buffy scarcely knew was an unusual marker for a timeline. "Ah. And how long have you known he was with this, erm 'Initiative'?"
There was a lengthy pause before a sheepish, "…the last time Olivia was around…"
A bright flash of anger had Giles catching his breath and he gritted his teeth before saying tersely, "Buffy — you've known for weeks. How could you just — Look, I know that our relationship has become…. complicated —"
"— you can say that again," Buffy mumbled but Giles did his best to ignore her.
"— but you've got to tell me about these sorts of things," he continued. "We can't permit a casual dalliance to interfere with how we manage our mission —"
"Casual?"
Something in Buffy's tone made Giles pause his diatribe and he looked at her sharply, although their pace didn't slow. "Sorry?"
She bit her lip. "You — you, uh, said casual? We were… casual?"
Baffled, Giles said, "W-well, that was certainly the impression that I received each time you bolted from my flat afterwards…"
"I was busy —"
"— and I understand that," Giles broke in gently, feeling enormously patient. "I-I don't want to argue, Buffy, it's been a terrible day and I'm too exhausted. It was something which happened between us; obviously, you've had mixed feelings and now they are firmly settled on Riley. My larger point is that —"
"'Mixed feelings'?" Buffy was shaking her head. "Giles, that's not —"
Exasperated, Giles halted and turned towards her. "Buffy, your mixed feelings have defined nearly every interaction we've had since last year. I-I spent the summer waiting for you to come 'round, never knowing how long it would be before you did — you bloody well didn't bother to tell me you'd returned early from Los Angeles, for gods' sake. We never named what went on between us and your silence on the matter has been quite eloquent."
Buffy, voice terse, replied quietly, "I don't have any excuse for not calling — and I'm not going to try to make one up. I do want to explain one thing, though. I wasn't lying to you that day — after the Espresso Pump. Mom did want to do bonding things and I couldn't get away. You want to try and explain to my mom why it was so urgent that I go and see you? And I was on my way to your place — literally walking there — when Willow saw me. What was I going to tell her, Giles? 'Sorry, Will, no time for coffee, I really miss my boyfriend Giles and I want to bang his brains out'. Yeah, that was going to go over well."
His mind going momentarily blank, Giles simply repeated, "…boyfriend?"
She glared at him. "You know what I mean."
"I truly wish I did," Giles breathed, feeling as though his head was spinning. "Buffy, I think we can agree that we were both —"
"No, please just listen —" Buffy shook herself and continued, "I know things got… confusing. But, Giles, when I saw you with Olivia —"
Unable to take much more, Giles sighed heavily. "Look —" He held up a hand to stall the clearly imminent protest. "— I've clearly been a willing participant in all of this. But…" He sighed and started walking again, Ethan's shoes pinching rather dreadfully.
Buffy trailed slightly behind him and her voice held a note of trepidation as she echoed, "…but…"
"…but when the friend you've been sleeping with suddenly stops calling for a month, you've got to assume that you're not sleeping together anymore." The silence between them grew to massive, canyon-sized proportions. "Buffy, I'm not shocked you've moved on. In fact, I'm glad that you've found the sort of relationship which you clearly craved w-with —" Here, Giles choked a bit on his words before finally managing, "With Angel. Riley appears… appropriate."
There was a lengthy pause before Giles heard her say with a wry smirk behind her tone — it had grown too dark to see exactly, but Buffy's tonal shifts were unmistakable, "…you hate him."
"I-I—" Giles struggled not to lie and finally said somewhat lamely, "…I don't know him well enough to say one way or the other. He makes you happy. That's enough."
Slowly, almost tentatively, he felt Buffy's hand slide into his and he hated how badly he wanted to kiss her. "So…" she murmured. "To, uh, celebrate our new-found emotional maturity… ice cream?"
While touched by Buffy's clear attempt at an olive branch, Giles scoffed, gesturing at the lurid shirt that he wore. "Dressed like this?" he demanded, gratified to hear Buffy laugh.
"Oh, come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's not every day that a cute woman and a tall disco-ball go on a date…."
"We need to focus on the Initiative," Giles replied firmly, keeping his face carefully turned away and trying to hide his smile. Buffy's hand was still clasping his and it felt amazing. "…but an ice cream would be lovely. After I change clothes."
8. goodbye to this year's girl
Xander's basement, Giles determined, was the most godawful place he'd endured in quite some time; after one night on that bloody inflatable chair (optimistically described by Xander as "like a cloud"), he'd decided that if the Initiative came for them he'd go willingly so long as they could promise a bed that didn't double as stress-position torture device. While Anya, Xander, and Willow talked at length in the main part of the hideous cave (having also moved the television with the loudly blaring cartoons thusly), Giles and Buffy whispered behind the curtain surrounding the sink and the sofa-bed portion of the room. Giles gazed longingly at the sofa-bed, wishing that he hadn't been so chivalrous about their sleeping arrangements. He rubbed his neck, wincing at the sharp pain.
"…Giles, you're not listening," Buffy pointed out, raising a critical eyebrow.
"I-I am," he shot back, still rubbing his neck. "You'll have to excuse my advanced age; sleeping on an item better suited to floating on a lazy river may have done me permanent damage."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Come here."
"What —"
Giles found himself suddenly spun about and braced himself against the sink. He began to say something but his mind went immediately blank when he felt the sharp pleasure-pain of Buffy's thumbs digging at the persistent knots beneath his shoulder blades. He must have made some sort of sound but Buffy squeezed him slightly too hard and hissed, "Shh! I'm only doing this for you — Anya's a real massage-hog."
Choosing to place a pin in the several obvious questions that statement had inspired, Giles wisely kept his mouth shut. Buffy's body was pressed against his from behind and her hands were just everywhere, finding every tiny pain point until he was sagging forward, relying entirely upon the questionable structural integrity of the sink and Buffy's far more reliable arms to keep him on his feet. She had her left arm circled about him, braced across his chest, while her right hand traced faint, feather-light patterns over his neck and back before combing up through his hair. Giles was panting almost imperceptibly as he whispered, "…feels so good, Buffy…"
"Yeah?" Her breath puffed tantalizingly against his neck and he arched into her touch. "You never let me massage you before."
"Yeah…" Giles felt marvelous; in fact, he hadn't felt so good in his entire life. He had an abruptly irrational impulse to tell Buffy everything in his heart and in his mind. Shaking himself a little, Giles managed, "Arguably, these roles between us are — oh —generally reversed."
"Okay, some of us need to brush our teeth —" Anya ripped the curtain back to reveal Giles and Buffy in what Giles felt was a rather gross imposition. Before he could stammer out an excuse, Anya announced indignantly, "Hey! Buffy, you agreed that massages require equal distribution and I was next on the rotation. I can supply the flowchart; I keep a copy over the microwave."
Buffy rolled her eyes, the motion of her hands becoming suddenly a bit perfunctory. "I mean, that's kinda the idea, right? Giles hasn't had any massages, so is definitely entitled to jump the line after his night on the bouncy castle. Hang on, it's pretty small. Bouncy Closet? I don't think that's something real but hell, I'll take the Bouncy Closet over the non-Bouncy Closet."
Deciding he'd had quite enough, Giles straightened and shifted towards his overnight bag. "Yes, well, thank you, Buffy — but it's time we all got started with our days, yes?"
Relieved to be back in his flat (the threat from the Initiative still lurking but in no way a match for Giles' lack of willingness to return to Xander's basement), Giles was rather unprepared for Buffy's arrival after her ordeal in Faith's body. The entire situation had been an entirely unwelcome and confusing experience for Giles; the brief, unwilling attraction he'd had to Faith had been extraordinarily disconcerting. He was just settling in for a blissfully quiet evening (scotch heavily poured) when his unlocked front door opened and Buffy walked in.
Her face was somber as she closed, then locked the door behind her. Giles rose and started walking towards her when he stopped in his tracks and stared. A pendant, suspended by a delicate silver chain, lay perfectly against the dip between Buffy's clavicles.
The cross was subtle; it was silver, Art Deco or a good reproduction, embedded somewhat unusually with garnet and smoky quartz. Giles had spotted it at an antiques shop not long before Buffy's birthday and, rather liking the the symbolism of the crystals paired with the practicality of the cross, bought it for her. He'd intended to give it to her at her party; instead, he'd left it by her bed so that it wouldn't get lost in the shuffle, at the very least. Giles had never seen her wear it.
"Hey," Buffy said, gazing at Giles.
"Hello," he replied softly, taking a shaky breath. "Everything alright?"
Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and, with absolute raw honesty, said, "I need to be with you, please. I-I'm not asking — I feel weird, and gross, and just wrong so I-I need to be with you."
Conflicting emotions gripping him, Giles said slowly, "…and when you say 'be with me', you mean…"
"Oh!" Buffy's cheeks glowed pink. "No. Um. I mean… just near you? Here? I-I…" She took a deep breath. "I feel more like myself here than anywhere else."
"Ah. A-and, erm — Riley? Where —"
"—b-but if you have plans or something, like, that's of the okay! I-I don't have to be here, I-I can just go back to the dorm or to Mom's or —"
"Buffy…"
"Riley and me are taking a break," she said tersely, breaking eye contact before darting her eyes back up to his. "I-I don't know if that's going to work out. Ever."
Heart thudding rapidly, Giles replied politely, "I'm sorry to hear that. Erm — ice cream?"
"Yes to ice cream," Buffy replied and pulled a movie out of her bag. "Also movie. And…" she trailed off, watching Giles stride to the kitchen to fetch bowls. "…you're not sorry."
He paused at the freezer door, exhaling softly. "I reserve my constitutional right to silence on that matter." The ice cream carton was cold in his hand and he cleared his throat. "What's the film of the evening, then?"
"Stargate," Buffy replied, her voice breezy.
Giles permitted the silence to lengthen between them, raising an inquiring brow as he prepared their bowls.
"…what? I can't have a James Spader comfort watch?" Buffy's pout was sexy and that was more than a little unfair, Giles felt.
After another moment, Giles asked, "…erm, J-James Spader?"
"He's hot, Giles."
"In Stargate?" Skeptical, he handed her a bowl of mint chocolate chip and sat on the sofa next to her as the opening credits began.
Defensively, Buffy raised her eyebrow right back. "Look. If a girl can't watch James Spader get his nerd on in his slutty little glasses to feel good —"
"I quite like Stargate," Giles broke in, smiling a little foolishly before hastily adding, "Not, mind, for the slutty little glasses."
They'd gotten midway through the movie and Giles wasn't paying much attention; he'd watched it before but he was primarily interested in the way that Buffy was tracing his knuckles with her fingertip. It was the sort of thing that she had done before, when she'd not been shy about letting Giles know that she wanted something more. Desire began to curl deep within him and he was suddenly a little too warm, despite the desert chill in the air. Feeling somewhat overwhelmed by sentiment and need, he said softly, "I like your necklace."
Buffy smiled slowly. "Well, I found it on my bedside table. Someone with pretty great taste got all sneaky on my birthday."
He bit his lip. "I, erm… haven't seen you wear it before."
There was a lengthy pause before Buffy said, "Riley… didn't like it. I think it bothered him that you got me jewelry."
The movie, thankfully, covered the resulting lengthy silence before Giles managed to say helplessly, "Buffy, Riley thinks I'm old enough to retire. I-I can't imagine that I'm any sort of-of… romantic threat —"
Buffy cut him off with a quietly insistent, "He was bothered. By you. Still is, I guess. Anyway. Movie, please?"
"Alright." Baffled, Giles tried not to melt as Buffy's fingers made their way to his knee and he determinedly kept his eyes firmly on the screen until…
"Um…" Buffy was biting her lip, eyes focused on the screen but expression uneasy.
Giles raised his eyebrow. "Um?"
"So, you… I-I'm just curious…"
Now both eyebrows were raised and Giles attempted to ignore the way that Buffy's fingers were flexing on his thigh. "If it's curiosity about James Spader and those useless-looking glasses…"
"…slutty little glasses…" Buffy muttered.
"Buffy —"
"I-I was just…" She took a deep breath and said in a great rush, "AmIgoodinbed?"
It took Giles a moment to understand what she'd said and yet another moment to recover adequately. He turned slightly to look at her fully. "What, erm… what drives you to ask?"
"I-I just… well, I'm not very experienced but you always seemed to, um…" Buffy made a wildly ambiguous gesture towards him which Giles supposed meant approximately half a dozen things while her eyes remained completely averted. "You know. Like it. Me. Like me… in bed. And, well, I-I — I just always figured I must be okay at it. But, uh — maybe you… were you, uh, just… being nice?"
Realization dawned and Giles was certain he'd never felt hatred quite so viscerally. Prepared to absolutely eviscerate that bloody useless soldier boy, Giles took a deep breath but then paused; instinct nudged him and he recognized that Buffy wouldn't find his anger particularly helpful. "I-I can't speak to others," he said carefully, focusing on the almost too-firm grip Buffy had on his thigh, "however, if you're curious about my opinion, I am willing to provide it."
Her voice was tiny when she said, "Please." Green eyes shone up at him, pleading for reassurance.
"Buffy," he murmured, suddenly unable to hold her gaze, "please know that… yes, you are… perfect. And, erm… I'm… experienced, as you've noted." Coughing slightly, he continued, "I've never before felt the way that I did with you. For whatever that's worth." Relaxing back against the sofa, he almost unconsciously slung an arm over the back of it and was desperately pleased when Buffy took the opening and snugged herself against his side.
Nearly three-quarters of the way through the film, Buffy said softly, "…he slept with Faith in my body, Giles."
Instantly tense, Giles lunged for the remote-controller and paused the film. "Buffy, what —"
"He slept with her and he didn't even notice she was acting weird. That she… wasn't me." Her voice was tiny and strained, a waver at the edge that indicated imminent tears. "H-he didn't even think…"
Without a thought or a care for what may happen next, Giles pulled Buffy into his arms and she clung to him, shoulders shuddering. He held her for such a very long time, pressing his nose into her hair and letting her do as she liked. Her lips kept brushing his neck; it seemed accidental, at first, but it wasn't very long before the tears stopped and the inadvertent-seeming kisses continued. "B-Buffy —" he managed, finally cupping her face with his palm and guiding her to meet his gaze. "What do you want?"
She looked so torn and it ripped at his heart. Then she seemed to rally herself and said firmly, "I-I feel wrong. Like I'm trying to fit somewhere I shouldn't. But — but, Giles, this is my body and I need to feel like — like I-I…" She trailed off, frustrated, so Giles supplemented.
"…like you own it," he murmured and she nodded silently. Giles pressed his forehead to hers. "Buffy. What do you need?"
There was a lengthy silence before she finally whispered, "…you."
Giles, without a second thought, ducked his head and kissed her the way he'd yearned to for so long.
"Please, Giles…" Buffy arched to him, shifting so that she was straddling his lap and plundering his mouth with her own as she ground against him. "Oh — oh, God, please…"
He arched up to her helplessly; it had been so long and he craved her. At the back of his mind, Giles knew — he knew — that Buffy only sought comfort. The familiar. But, Giles realized quite suddenly, while she was writhing in his lap and kissing him as though he was the only man in the world that mattered to her, he belonged so utterly to Buffy that if this was all that she could give him… well, that was all he needed.
"Come upstairs," he urged, nuzzling Buffy's throat. "Stay tonight. We'll do anything — anything you'd like. If-if you don't like something, say 'nox'."
A massive shudder wracked through Buffy and Giles didn't even have the opportunity to be alarmed because she was grasping his hair and yanking him up into a fierce, passionate kiss. "I don't want to think," she gasped into his mouth. "I want — I want you to tell me what to do…"
Giles pulled back, staring at her flushed face and her glittering, wide eyes; his breath rasped in his throat before he managed to say in a shockingly steady voice, "Go upstairs, Buffy. Take off as much or as little clothing as you'd like and wait for me on the bed. Do you understand?"
So very quietly that he could scarcely hear it, there came a murmured, "Yes, Giles."
Before following Buffy upstairs, Giles dimmed the lights and made certain the door was both locked and bolted securely; he was in no way interested in an unexpected late-night invasion by their friends or Spike. He swiftly took care of certain necessities in the bathroom, then crept up the stairs with two glasses of ice water in hand. Buffy was laying on the bed and Giles stopped in his tracks, utterly mesmerized by the vision before him; she was simply wearing one of his shirts, loosely buttoned, and a pair of plain cotton knickers.
Delicately, Giles set the glasses down on the side table and sat next to Buffy on the bed. "Buffy…" he began but Buffy cut him off.
"Giles, I-I don't want to talk about it — I-I just…" She paused, gazing at him imploringly as he caressed her lips with his fingertips.
"Alright," he murmured, ducking his head again to kiss her ardently. "We don't have to talk. I only wanted to ask…" He swallowed hard, his voice discernibly deeper as he asked, "How many times will you come for me tonight?"
Buffy melted against him, her exhale a shuddering rush as she responded, "As many times as you want me to."
"…and how many times will you come on my cock?" Inwardly, Giles flinched; he'd never been quite so crass with her but he couldn't restrain himself — not this time.
The punched-out whimper that emerged from Buffy was gratifying. "…as many times as you want me to," she whispered, starting to squirm.
Already embarrassingly hard, Giles bit his lip as he gently helped Buffy to lay back on the bed, stroking her hair and along her sides soothingly as he cautiously unbuttoned the shirt she wore. He wanted to give her every opportunity to tell him that she needed to stop but she simply arched into his touch and permitted the shirt to fall loosely open to reveal her perfect, rose-tipped little breasts. Her thighs spread as Giles continued his featherlight path down her body, tracing a finger over black cotton, already slippery and hot to the touch.
"Gorgeous," he breathed, watching Buffy as she responded so beautifully to his lightest touch.
To his astonishment, Buffy blushed. "I-I —" She shook her head slightly. "Sorry — I would've changed into something a little more seductive if I'd been planning…" She winced, shaking her head.
Giles, tilting his head curiously before realizing the implication, murmured, "I don't know that you've ever looked more perfect." Slowly, he hooked a fingertip underneath the waistband and dragged the scrap of fabric down — down — until Buffy's knickers were dangling from one ankle and her cunt was exposed to Giles' avid gaze. She looked obscene, wearing only Giles' open shirt and absolutely nothing else. He could tell by the way Buffy was squirming — because, of the two of them, she was dreadful at concealing her truest feelings — that she was desperately turned on.
Of course, Giles reflected as he ghosted a finger along Buffy's gleaming slit, the gorgeous way that she writhed was not the only indicator that Buffy was aroused…
"Please…"she whimpered, rubbing up against him as she searched for more friction. "Oh — oh God, Giles, please…"
Restraining the urge to strip down and simply be with her, Giles murmured, "I think I should like to tease you for a while, darling." Buffy's answering expression lit up with pure want as Giles crawled onto the bed and sat back against the headboard, drawing Buffy back by the waist. She rested against his chest, her legs splayed out over his to leave herself utterly exposed to his gaze. The contrast between her bare thighs as they lay across Giles' denim-clad legs made him pause, catching his breath at how badly he wanted her.
Gently, he drew Buffy's arms up above her head to twine around his neck, indicating with a squeeze that he expected her to keep them in place. "I'm going to tease you now, darling," he murmured. "For as long as you can stand it. When you can no longer bear it, you are to… to take control." Giles inhaled sharply, then finally said in a rush, "Use me. Use me in any way you like."
Waiting only long enough to receive Buffy's nod of assent, he slid his fingers between her legs and pressed her close as she writhed under his touch. "You're utterly gorgeous," he muttered, nipping her neck as his calloused fingers traced a tiny little pattern around her clitoris. As she arched again, he continued to murmur endearments and praise — everything he hadn't dared say for months.
Buffy's hips rose to meet his delicate touch, demanding a more vigorous pace, but Giles resisted. "Tease," she ground out.
"Oh yes," Giles breathed, his voice light even as he slipped his fingers lower-still to her entrance and dipped inside just enough for her to feel it before withdrawing to tap a brief admonishment against her clitoris. Buffy cried out at the touch, planting her feet flat on the mattress and chasing his hand with her pelvis. "Ah-ah, Buffy. I shan't continue playing with your perfect little cunt if you keep that up."
The wordless whine she released was like music; keeping her feet planted, Buffy lowered her hips obediently to rest her pert little arse on Giles' lap. His cock pressed urgently against his fly but Giles ignored it, choosing instead to abandon Buffy's center (her cry of protest was quite lovely) to toy with her little rose-hued nipples. She began to pant his name, squirming on his lap as Giles teased and pinched, dragging his hand down between her legs to wet his fingers before renewing his attentions.
Buffy was whimpering, "Oh — oh — oh, Giles, it hurts, it-it aches…"
"Mm?" Pretending to be quite absent-minded, Giles continued his game of pinching and soothing Buffy's tits. "What hurts, darling?"
"M-my… my…" She was blushing furiously, squirming and straining to spread her legs more widely.
"Oh, Buffy…" Giles whispered, unable to resist teasing her more. "I can't make it better if I don't know exactly where it hurts…"
There was another moment of helpless, fidgety silence before, "…ohhh… m-my pussy, Giles, my pussy aches, please help me…"
Giles felt his cock give an almighty throb and he tried not to join in Buffy's squirming; hearing her say such things made him absolutely wild, he realized.
"Ohhhh God…" Buffy moaned, arching eagerly again as Giles trailed his hands once more to her now completely soaked cunt. This time, he dipped both of his hands between her legs, the fingers from one teasing around her clitoris while the other dipped the tips of two others just inside her. Her entire body was tensed, straining for the climax that Giles denied her until finally —
Giles found himself pushed down on the bed and hastily wedged a pillow beneath his neck as Buffy hovered above him. Her pupils were blown, eyes glittering with need as she gasped out, "Is — is this —"
"Fuck my face," he ordered, reaching out to cup her bum in both hands to pull her onto his eager mouth.
She wailed at the first touch of his tongue; Giles began at a rapid pace, battering her swollen clitoris mercilessly with the very tip of his tongue whilst pulling at her to rest more of her weight on him. Her thighs were clenching around his ears and Giles was utterly consumed with her, rejoicing as she came whilst shuddering and flooding his mouth with fresh slick. He didn't let up, though — she wasn't finished, he knew, so he held her firmly and licked until she was meeting every thrust of his tongue with her hips.
Blindly, Giles scrabbled at his fly and yanked his leaking, aching erection free. Cool air kissed his overheated skin as he began to fist it rapidly, unable to help himself. She was all over him, writhing on his tongue and Giles rejoiced in it. He returned to her clitoris, alternating between scrubbing it harshly with his tongue then sucking it until she was twitching and soaking him again. Mindlessly, Giles continued to jack himself until he felt a surprising sting against the back of his hand and the very tip of his cock.
Buffy was rising off him and Giles, stroking a little faster — fuck, she was gloriously naked and her cunt was puffy and dripping — watched her crawl down the bed until she was close enough to lick him. Instead, she slapped his hand once more and the light blow glanced off his cockhead again. "Fuck …" Giles gritted his teeth and managed. "Darling — i-if you do that again, I'm going to…" His fist was practically a blur and Buffy pulled it off his cock firmly.
"I need you inside me," she said, eyes blazing.
"How do you want me?" he asked, trying to ignore the way she had started to make his cock bounce a little with a prodding fingertip.
"Why don't you tell me," Buffy ordered, arching a brow.
Giles scrambled to his feet but pulled Buffy with him, saying in a roughened voice, "Keep playing, darling." As she continued to make his cock bob and drip, Giles stripped down with shaking hands until he was equally nude. Then he sat back down against the headboard, guiding Buffy to straddle him and holding her firmly by the hips as he instructed her to keep her hands clasped at the nap of her neck, forcing her back into an arch which placed her tits on beautiful display. Then, grasping himself at the base, he notched the tip into her glorious cunt and let her slide slowly — ever so slowly — onto his cock.
Buffy was muttering something and Giles strained to make out, "Oh God — th-the way you fill me, Giles, y-you have no idea what you do to me…"
Trying desperately to hang on to his scrambled thoughts, Giles finally managed, "Bounce on it, Buffy — bounce on my cock, God, use me — use me…"
Still holding hands behind her neck obediently, Buffy obeyed; her tits jiggled with every movement and Giles eagerly devoured her with his eyes. Buffy's mouth formed a perfect "O" and she moaned every time she took him all the way. Giles watched her cunt greedily, savage pleasure ripping through him at the sight of her split around his thick length. Then Buffy was begging him to touch her, to make her come and he could never deny her again so he did, calloused thumb pressing tight circles against her clitoris.
He felt her come before she made a sound; her inner muscles began to contract around him and he tensed, waiting, waiting…
Buffy nearly shrieked his name; clenching around him and sobbing for breath as she came shatteringly around him. Planting both feet on the mattress, Giles grabbed her roughly with one hand on her arse and the other arm circling around her back. He pulled her down so that their chests were flush together as he ground up into her, pressing her closely to him and hoping that the changed angle would do what he thought it might —
"Oh! Oh no…" Buffy moaned, clutching at Giles and whimpering helplessly.
"S-something… wrong…?" Giles gasped out, on the very precipice of his own self-restraint as he continued his steady grind against that place inside her.
"I-I'm gonna… make a mess…" Buffy's voice was tight and she was pressing her face into his neck, hips working in minute circles. "A-all over you…"
He angled her head so he could kiss her fiercely, murmuring against her lips, "I love when you make a mess…"
A guttural groan ripped from Buffy's throat as her cunt clamped around Giles' cock again, a sudden gush of fluid soaking them both. Giles only dimly heard his own shout of completion. Shoving Buffy down onto him, he came spectacularly hard; gasping as he twitched and spurted as deeply into her as he could.
Ears ringing in the aftermath, when Giles managed to blink himself back into awareness, Buffy was still on top of him. Giles could feel his cock stir interestedly at the sight of her sleepy satisfaction but attempted to withdraw regardless, wincing at the state of the sheets under him.
"Noooo…" she whined, clinging to him like a little limpet as he stroked her back soothingly.
"We've got to clean up, darling," Giles whispered, smiling foolishly as she snuggled harder. "Come on —" Tenderly, he slid her to the other side of the bed and efficiently dashed downstairs for some clean sheets and a warm, damp cloth. He made quick work of both the bed and Buffy, sliding the cloth gently between her legs before tucking her in and sliding in beside her. She snuggled against him immediately, laying half on top of him and kissing his chest absently before she began to snore lightly.
Giles knew — he knew — that the evening was unlikely to amount to anything more. He'd spent the bulk of a summer learning that, while Buffy clearly found their physical connection to be… satisfying, there were obvious barriers to moving the relationship beyond one of occasional but deeply fantastic sex. He set his jaw and tried to enjoy holding Buffy for the rest of the evening; to retain his sanity, he knew what he needed to do.
The next morning, Giles had been in the kitchen for a significant stretch of time before Buffy wandered downstairs in his bathrobe. He set a plate of toast, eggs, and bacon in front of her with a large mug of coffee. "This is… something," Buffy said, smiling softly at him. "Thank you."
"Of course," Giles smiled back and sipped his own coffee. "H-how are you feeling?" he asked, voice gentle.
She frowned, an adorable little puzzled crease appearing between her eyebrows. "I-I'm good. Great, actually. And, hey — bed then breakfast? I give this overnight five out of five stars!" Buffy grinned invitingly then sobered after a moment as she looked deeply into his eyes. "…h-how are you?"
"Quite well." Giles smiled fondly and regretfully down at her, trying not to seem callous as he added, "Erm… unfortunately, Buffy, I-I did have a few things scheduled for today…"
"Oh!" Buffy looked startled, then shook herself and cast her eyes away. "Um. You shouldn't have let me sleep in — sorry about that. Um. I-I'll just go and get dressed." She made to stand and Giles gestured her back into her seat, giving her a swift hug which he hoped read as platonic.
"You needn't rush," he said, smiling down at her again. "Just… finish your breakfast and let yourself out when you'd like. See you later?" Inwardly, Giles ached.
Wordlessly, eyes wide and unreadable, Buffy nodded. Giles grabbed his keys and a satchel which he hoped looked convincingly purposeful, gave Buffy's shoulders another quick squeeze, then left for a lengthy walk around the neighborhood before meeting with Crowley at UC Sunnydale's antiquities department. Giles knew he was easily forty minutes early but it was better than waiting around to watch Buffy disappear for another several weeks. By the time he'd returned, Buffy had left; the only evidence of her presence was the clean plate and fork left in the dish rack to dry.
9. wild factors
"Rupert," Jonathan said gently, prodding his rook to an easy checkmate, "your head's not in the game. What's going on?"
Sighing heavily, Giles stood and crossed to the cabinet to freshen his scotch. "Not sure what you mean," he said, pouring a healthy finger and offering the bottle to Jonathan, who shook his head with a smile. "I'm perfectly fine."
"…would this have anything to do with a certain Slayer?"
Giles set his glass down with a dull thud. Buffy. Her likely reconciliation with Riley; God, it rankled and pierced through him like nothing he'd ever felt before. "Good guess. What of it?"
Jonathan stood and crossed to him, resting a reassuring hand on Giles' forearm as he said, "Look — I don't know what's between you and Buffy — and it's not any of my business. I do know that when you feel like nothing is going your way, you should lean into your strengths. Do something that makes you feel good."
With a skeptical snort accompanied by an eyeroll, Giles muttered, "…anymore, the things I'm good at, Buffy doesn't seem to want…" Realizing what he'd said and what could be implied, Giles took a hasty, too-large swallow of his drink and promptly choked.
While whacking him emphatically on the back, Jonathan pointed out, "You like music. You have a guitar — why don't you do an open-mic night? The Espresso Pump has them all the time."
Going back to the table and putting away the chess set, Giles took a moment before saying, "I'm wildly out of practice, Jonathan. It's been years since I've performed before an audience and that was with a band; I've not done anything like that on my own."
"Then maybe it's time to start." Jonathan grabbed his jacket and picked up Giles' glass, finishing off the scotch (classic Jonathan, Giles thought ruefully) and heading for the door. "As always, great game. Think over what I said, Rupert."
Long after Jonathan departed, Giles pulled out his guitar and began to strum some familiar chords. Even once the world returned to normal (blessedly not lacking in shrimp), Giles continued to occupy his time with his guitar. Buffy had gone back to Riley and the pain was near-physical.
Giles hadn't intended to let any of the others know where he'd been spending his Friday evenings of late; after the Jonathan incident, Giles was inevitably left adrift. In an effort to try to pretend his drinking wasn't becoming problematic, he sought another outlet for his rather battered emotions. Said outlet was, strangely enough, the one aptly suggested by Jonathan himself: Open Mic Night at the Espresso Pump. The first time he'd gone, he'd been nervous but willing to try just about anything to get Buffy out of his mind.
It had gone off without a hitch; he'd been well received and even managed a casual conversation or two that didn't involve demons of some variety. The second time had gone even better; Giles was willing to admit that his song choices did nothing to excise Buffy from his thoughts but being able to release some of the whirl of emotions that coursed through him proved somewhat cathartic. (A woman named Liz had slipped him her number. She wasn't his type, but he was flattered all the same.) And, of course, the third time had been unfortunately interrupted by some of the people he'd been attempting to distance himself from.
He was somewhat embarrassed; doubly so, of course, when Anya bluntly asked Xander why he didn't serenade her with a guitar.
Much later, after all had been resolved at Lowell House, Giles kept to his flat with his guitar and his scotch. When all was said and done, he didn't want to chance Buffy listening to him at the Espresso Pump as he poured out his heart in song. And, he thought grimly, he couldn't stand the thought of even looking at Riley, that pillock. Giles had inferred after his and Buffy's last dalliance that Riley was a bland, unimaginative young man who had no earthly idea what to do with a woman like Buffy. It hurt all the more that Buffy had chosen to return to Riley when he clearly had no ability to satisfy her physically or emotionally.
Scrambling up from the floor, Giles rolled his eyes as Buffy hissed, "You're going to hurt yourself doing this, Giles, you're not young anymore —"
"Oh, you didn't seem to mind my age particularly when you were bouncing on my cock all summer," Giles retorted hotly, glaring down at Buffy; his alcohol-fuzzed brain realized he'd said rather more than he ought to have but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"Giles!" Buffy's eyes had gone wide as saucers and her face turned a brilliant shade of pink. "I feel like that's more of a discussion for us, not the group —"
"…wait, what? Bouncing on — on — what?" Xander sounded utterly aghast. "Oh — oh, God, the images are so confusing!" He raked his fingers through his hair, shaking his head rapidly.
"Confusing? Shall I draw you a diagram?" Giles asked, waving his scotch around widely, then adding in a rather loud mumble, "I'm fairly certain Anya could draw you one…"
Willow looked at Xander as though he had lost his mind. "…you didn't notice they were a thing?"
"Okay, well, I'm not all witchy and intuitive, okay? I'm just your regular Joe who doesn't understand why our high school librarian is going all Nabokov with Buffy!"
"Having working eyes isn't a witchy thing, Xander!"
Buffy's face was a portrait of horror; stunned, she stared at Willow. "You noticed?"
Shrugging, Willow said, "You guys weren't that subtle."
"Oh my god…" Xander was clutching his ears.
"Oh, kindly fuck off to Fort Dix," Giles retorted, his head buzzing with the alcohol. Suddenly quite unwilling to listen to any more twaddle, Giles began to stagger towards the stairs. "I'm not in my grave, I'm not even retirement age, for fucks' sake…"
Xander's voice was rather headsplitting as he shouted after him, "And if I did join the Army, I'd be great! You know why…"
"I'm going to bed," Giles mumbled, fumbling with the hem of his jumper and wobbling a bit on the stairs. The sound of the caterwauling from downstairs was blissfully muffled for a moment as his jumper was over his ears. He prudently stopped on the stairs, leaning against the wall as he finally managed to yank it off and toss it over the railing. Not registering where the bloody thing landed, Giles toed off his shoes and socks before flopping into bed fully-clothed. His head spun and he vaguely hoped he'd fall asleep before he risked throwing up.
"…Tara's your girlfriend?" Floated through Giles' vague consciousness.
"Bloody hell…" Giles clutched his head. Why hadn't they left, for the love of God? The host was in bed, everyone knew it was party etiquette to leave when the host was in bed… but it wasn't a party, it was a bloody meeting and everything had gone to the dogs. He stopped listening for a time, focusing solely upon his muddled brain and his absolute certainty that he would have the mother of all hangovers in the morning.
And then, over the various ruckus he heard, "…if I need help, I'll go to someone I can count on."
Dizzy and fading rapidly, Giles bitterly reflected that when he'd gotten drunk and maudlin in the past, at least he'd lacked both audience and lingering regret quite so immediately.
They hadn't had the chance to truly talk. While the group-hug at the base of the elevator shaft had been… (Giles hesitated a bit when considering this) …fine, matters remained complex between himself and Buffy. Therefore, when Riley took his leave at the start of the evening, Giles was extremely grateful. He was doubly grateful when Joyce declined to join; the magicks humming between the four of them was palpable and Joyce, while not adept, was clearly sensitive to the dynamic and may have had a rough go of it had she remained.
While unsettling, the dreams involving the First Slayer had nothing on the final dream.
Buffy felt like she was floating. Just below, there was a couple moving in Giles' bed; she realized that she recognized them just as the covers fell back. A dream Buffy was on top of Giles, arching her back and writhing as the dream Giles allowed his fingers to move between her legs. They moved slowly — too slowly, it was surreal the way that they lingered together, as though bound in the haze of Buffy's mind.
"Ah, I wondered if we might end up here," Giles murmured behind her.
For some reason, Buffy wasn't surprised. It felt inevitable that he should be here, smelling of books and woodsmoke and pine. "Hey," she said, unable to tear her eyes from the writhing couple. "Fancy seeing you here. Both of you. Both of us, I guess."
"I see you here quite frequently," Giles replied, resting a hand on her waist. "I've not seen you here before, though." He paused, looking like he was thinking hard. "This is odd."
"Not as odd as that," Buffy said, gesturing at the two in the bed as the black shadow expanded around them. "I don't remember a void opening up the last time we… y'know."
Giles huffed out a low laugh. "Not a visible one, no."
Glancing up sharply, Buffy asked, "…was there a different kinda void? When we… y'know?
"Of a sort. But when isn't there? After all, Buffy," Giles remarked congenially as they observed their dream-selves enthusiastically making love, "you've experienced that sort of thing yourself."
"…not with you," she murmured, staring as her dream self drew the dream Giles up to kiss him languidly. "Never with you."
The faint huff of surprise next to her was not particularly reassuring. "Well." Giles was shaking his head. "I suppose that's a bit of a surprise but somewhat gratifying all the same." Buffy darted a swift glance up at Giles; the bitter smile that twisted at his mouth made her heart skip a beat — she'd never seen his eyes look like this and her heart ached because…
…because she began to understand the dreadful truth: The void was Buffy and she could barely stand the thought that she'd hurt Giles so badly.
The couple in the bed moved faster — impossibly fast, as though someone had hit the fast-forward button; then it was over and dream Buffy and dream Giles lay in a content, happy embrace. "I do love this bit," Giles said, his voice wistful. "Well, not love, exactly…"
"What bit?"
"The bit just here; I don't like the next as much. Just watch, impatient darling."
Dream Buffy stood, caressing the sleeping dream Giles' cheek in a gesture that seemed nearly perfunctory before dressing rapidly and kissing him before racing down the stairs. Dream Giles, clearly not actually asleep, sat up in the bed. Buffy watched, her heart aching in her chest as the void expanded around the bed even further while dream Giles' face twisted into an expression of bitter longing. Shakily, Buffy whispered, "Why didn't you ever tell me?"
Giles' hand never left her waist as he replied, "It was best for you not to know. Please understand, Buffy — I knew what you wanted from me and I gave it to you freely. It was always my choice."
"…even though I hurt you?" Buffy couldn't tear her eyes away from dream Giles as he scrubbed his face with his palm, the self-loathing in his every gesture obvious. The blackness began to creep up the sides of the bed.
With a deep sigh, Giles replied, "I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Every time. Buffy, there's something — oh, hang on, I've never seen this bit." Tilting his head, Giles zeroed in on dream Buffy, who had paused on the stairs and was gazing back up towards the loft. Her expression was one of deep conflict as she fingered the cross necklace that glittered between her collar bones. "Buffy, i-is this —"
Buffy shrugged, trying not to watch her dream self and the embarrassingly naked longing that played across her face. "…I thought you liked us just being physical," Buffy muttered. "I mean, it was hard enough to get you to even —"
"Why doesn't he want to love me?"
The disembodied voice echoed through Giles' apartment but their dream selves clearly didn't hear it.
A lengthy pause stretched between them even as the void continued to encroach upon the bed. Giles' face was a portrait of stunned disbelief; Buffy tried to say something — to cover — but he waved her down, staring off into the middle distance and shaking his head slightly. After what seemed like approximately seven years, Giles tilted his head down towards Buffy and said faintly, "Tell me truthfully, Buffy — that last time. Did you want to… stay?"
"Well, yeah," Buffy said grudgingly, shrugging uncomfortably again. "Y'know, your inner-monologue was nice enough to stay quiet. What's with that?"
The void consumed dream Giles entirely and Giles raised an eyebrow. "I feel that spoke entirely for itself." As the room faded to nothing, a beautiful little glade appeared. It was dotted with lovely flowers and the trees overheard were ancient and beautiful. Two chairs were positioned across from each other and a bed, lovingly made, rested not far from the chairs. They sat facing one another.
"So," Buffy said, looking around. "I guess we're supposed to figure something out?"
"I rather get that impression, yes," Giles responded, glancing around. "This particular location is somewhat unexpected."
"…you know where we are?"
With a huffed out laugh, Giles said, "England. Bath, to be more specific. This looks like the place where I lost my virginity to Ellie Macintosh after we'd finished sixth form."
Buffy smiled at the rueful little grin quirking Giles' lips. "Oh, really? And, uh — how does Buffy Summers compare to the legendary Ellie Macintosh?"
The smile became gentle as Giles murmured, "There's no contest; Buffy Summers always wins."
There was a long pause as the peaceful stillness enveloped them. Then Buffy said quietly, "Can we go to the bed? The chairs are better for what we're talking about but I think the bed keeps me from pretending."
Wordlessly, Giles stood and extended his hand; Buffy took it and they walked together to the bed across the sun-dappled grass. Once there, they sank down together and lounged on the pillows; Giles immediately wrapped his arms around Buffy and she sighed, his solid bulk a familiar and constant relief to her. Buffy, reluctantly, whispered, "Something's not working with us."
"I agree. I've got an idea of what it is but I'd like to know what you think." Giles was idly stroking his fingers along Buffy's spine and she loved it.
The aroma of fresh-baked bread wafted around them and Buffy smiled wistfully before saying, "I think I know what I have to say. But I think I want to kiss you again first because when we say it, I don't think I'll be allowed to kiss you anymore."
His exhale was heavy but his hand on her cheek light as he tilted her head up so that he could capture her lips with his. Buffy melted, pouring all of herself — the jumbled confusion, need, passion, love — yes, love, Buffy realized as she poured every single piece of herself into this impossible dream. "Giles, Giles…" she gasped, the tear streaking down her own cheek a surprise. "I don't want to stop — I never want to stop —"
Soothing, gentle kisses brushed along her lips and grazed along her cheeks. "You know we'll have to," Giles breathed, stroking her hair and her body as though he could never get enough. "I-I'm not certain you need to say this bit. I rather think it's… well, it's got to be me."
"Giles, what —"
There was an indescribable sadness in Giles' voice when he said hoarsely, "We've got to be apart for a while, darling. Things have changed so entirely that neither of us knows how to act or even think — I can't live this way and I rather think you can't, either."
Buffy hid her face against Giles' chest, nestling her nose against his breastbone as she muttered, knowing he was right and hating it, "I don't want to be away from you."
"I don't want to be away from you, either — but I need to be." Giles sighed and kissed her again, lingeringly, before sighing again. "Going to miss this."
"Me, too," Buffy said, playing with the collar of Giles' sweater. "Can we kiss until we wake up? Please?" Every part of her screamed that it was wrong to be away from Giles but she… she couldn't tell him no. Not after what she'd seen — God, had she made his eyes do that? Salty, heavy waves of guilt threatened to overwhelm her and somehow, she knew that Giles was the only person who could stop her from drowning.
Giles wordlessly rolled them so that Buffy was on top of him, arching up to kiss her fiercely. The light changed and water rushed in their ears; Buffy winked open an eye and noticed the ocean lapping at the bed skirt and the walls of her childhood bedroom in LA. Shrugging, she licked into Giles' mouth and pressed herself against him. Riley felt like a vague memory and Buffy didn't care because she only wanted Giles and the way that his calloused fingers caught on her shirt as he slid his hands underneath.
"Buffy — Rupert? Breakfast time!"
Giles laid back against the pillow, sighing and raising an eyebrow. "D'you know, there's nothing like Mr. Gordo's glare and the threat of your mother ready to pounce to spoil the mood." He pointed at the stuffed pig positioned on Buffy's bureau; Buffy had to admit, Mr. Gordo did look judgmental.
With a little eyeroll, Buffy murmured, "I mean, we could give 'em a show…"
The growl that emerged from him was downright hot, Buffy realized, especially when it came accompanied by a searingly perfect kiss…
…the room was filled with sunlight and Buffy could hear everyone stirring. She was still kissing Giles and he was still kissing her back from where they lay entwined on the couch together; slowly, they stopped and Buffy's eyes showed every ounce of regret and longing he'd wished to see there for months.
"It's alright," Giles breathed, brushing a curl off Buffy's face and bringing her down so that they could press their foreheads together; their breath synced and for a moment, it was only the two of them in their little plush cocoon.
The sound of someone delicately clearing their throat interrupted them, jerking away (but Buffy was still nearly entirely on top of Giles, so not far), they both looked up guiltily to see Joyce and her eloquently-raised eyebrow. Xander's little snort of resignation and Willow's immediate babble cut the silence as they leaped from their own places to go to the dining room. Joyce didn't say anything but she certainly looked it. Giles uneasily wondered how much she suspected about the manner in which he and Buffy had spent the prior summer.
"Erm," he said nervously, edging out from under Buffy and the afghan someone had thrown over them in the night. "I-I should be going, actually — thank you for the offer, Joyce, it's quite kind of you."
Her answering smirk was not adversarial, necessarily, but it also wasn't encouraging. Joyce sauntered back to the dining room as Buffy and Giles both rose from the sofa. They stood silently for a long moment before walking together to the front door, fingers entwined.
Smiling sadly, Giles couldn't help leaning down and brushing a kiss across Buffy's forehead. "We'll see each other… once we have things sorted for ourselves. Alright?"
Buffy bit her lip hard before whispering, "Yeah. Um — yeah, okay. Whatever you need. I-I'll do anything."
Heart thudding in his chest, Giles whispered a kiss across Buffy's lips as he breathed, "Good-bye."
"…bye…" Buffy did not try to deepen the kiss and Giles was pathetically grateful as, chest heavy, he stepped out into the sunlight.
A faint aroma of flowers and fresh-clipped grass wafted towards him; wistfully, he thought that the gentle chill of the morning felt rather like Bath. It almost startled him, the feeling which came upon him; Giles was suddenly rather struck by a notion he'd been considering for some time and his steps quickened as he walked back to his flat. The dream had meant many things and, with this break that he and Buffy had agreed upon, perhaps…
…perhaps it was time to return to England.
Yes, he decided firmly, a relieved smile spreading across his face. He'd go to London, see some old friends — perhaps visit his parents in Bath. It wouldn't be permanent — but perhaps a holiday was just the thing to ease his rather battered heart.
The_Crazy_Knight on Chapter 2 Sat 12 Jul 2025 08:07PM UTC
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Elena (Guest) on Chapter 3 Sun 27 Jul 2025 09:23PM UTC
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LonesomeSundown on Chapter 3 Tue 29 Jul 2025 04:09PM UTC
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Brun (Guest) on Chapter 4 Thu 31 Jul 2025 09:51PM UTC
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Muldersgurl on Chapter 4 Thu 07 Aug 2025 10:09PM UTC
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Rippergirl1701d on Chapter 4 Thu 21 Aug 2025 03:27PM UTC
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