It was late when Giles walked through the door of his flat throwing his keys and glasses onto his desk, tired, victorious, and immensely proud. Taking off his jacket and tie and neatly placing them on the back of a chair, he ran his hands through his hair. God, to be twenty again! If he had been, perhaps he would have gone to the Bronze to celebrate his Slayer’s recent victory with her and the Scoobies, but he wasn’t, they were gung-ho, and he had to finish up business with the Council delegation. Unbuttoning his shirt he decided that it had to go as well. He pulled down the braces so he could release the shirttails from his trousers before taking off the garment and, with a small shrug, tossing it in the direction of the laundry room. He’d get it later. Much later.
These trappings of adulthood chafed at him: suits, ties, and ultimately... tweed. Fuck Quentin Travers and his band of tweedy Council toadies! Oh, his Slayer had showed them! How he had delighted in watching her take them down, pick them apart, and have her way with them. He grinned wickedly. Dear Lord was she brilliant! It made him giddy, and at a very primal level he wanted to release the pent up energy of the last several days by shouting in victory, but he thought better of it. The neighbors wouldn’t appreciate it.
He walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of scotch. It was a celebratory drink, and he could feel its warmth envelop him as he swallowed. This was so much better than drinking while miserable like he’d done the year before. The heat then just seemed to stoke the anger and desolation, pulling him down further into despair. Tonight, it augmented his spirits and he smiled defiantly as he remembered the look on old Travers’ face as Buffy called his bluff, and the absolute terror on that prat Nigel’s visage (Visage? Christ, Giles, no wonder they think you are stuffy) as the sword struck the wood frame just inches from his startled face. Anyway, it had served the little ass kisser right! He had been warned.
Walking towards the couch, he passed by the mirror. Inspecting his hair, he fiddled with it some more, releasing the soft waves from the styling product he used to tame them earlier that morning. He felt caged and tense, like a panther trying to outpace his trappings. And God, did he want a cigarette! It had been years since he had smoked. When was the last time? Oh, the night of Ethan’s sodding chocolate. What an embarrassment that had been. And before that, it had been years as well.
Yes, he was feeling rebellious. Travers got what he deserved. “Thought you could walk into my shop and bend my Slayer to your will, you bloody ponce?” Giles growled. How he wanted to let Ripper out and beat the living shit out of the smug bastard. How he had wanted to do that for years. The man had bullied him since he was twelve, having accidentally bumped into him in the halls of Council Headquarters when he was looking for his father. Quentin had immediately dressed him down and cuffed around the ears him because he ‘hadn’t shown him the proper respect deserved of a Watcher.’
Finishing his first glass of scotch, Giles made his way back to the liquor cabinet for a refill. After several swigs, he decided his trousers made him feel old and he set the tumbler down and ran up the stairs to the loft. He dug through his chest of drawers and found a pair of comfortable ripped blue jeans. Toeing off his dress shoes without unlacing the ties, he pulled off his socks and freed his feet. One step closer to the freedom he craved. He then stripped himself of his trousers, left them in a messy pile on the floor by his bed and pulled on his jeans. Sighing in relief as the soft denim trailed up his long thighs, Giles started to relax, finally feeling more like himself. One thing was still missing though. His earring. He eagerly rifled through the carved wooden box on his nightstand.
He stopped when he came across a black and white photo of Buffy and himself. Willow had taken it while they were fencing one afternoon in the library right before the Mayor’s attempted ascension. It was a close up of them from the chest up, their sabers crossed, bodies pressed together, amusement glittering in her eyes as she was about to push him away from her. It was a great action shot and he had had every intention of having it blown up and giving it to her, but had never gotten around to it. Looking closely at the picture, he could see the look in his eyes as well: full concentration, knowing with absolute certainty he was going to disarm her within two moves. He smiled, recollecting he had done exactly that. It wasn’t often that he bested his Slayer, but it was almost a guarantee when they trained with swords. Putting the picture down, he found the beaten silver hoop he was looking for and worked it through the hole in his left ear. Turning to leave the room, he stopped and picked up the photo before heading back down the stairs.
After refilling his drink, he wandered back over to the couch and sat down. Giles glanced at the picture again as he consumed more of the whisky. Buffy had matured so much over the past year and a half. She no longer resembled the girl in the photograph, but he could see echoes of the woman she was now: more vibrant, focused, and self assured. Oh, but she was marvelous!
As he drank more of the single malt scotch, he heard a faint knock at the door as it opened. “Giles?”
Noticing a twinge of panic in her voice, the newly reinstated Watcher stood, dropping the picture on the table, and made his way quickly over to his Slayer, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “Buffy! What brings you here so late? Are you alright?”
The shaken Slayer took his free hand in hers for reassurance and responded, “I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you... that the Council didn’t back out of their... that you were still here.”
Chuckling lightly he said, “I’m fine, Buffy. You’ve won! They’ve headed to L.A. and will take the next flight back to England.” Noting her demeanor, Giles’ mirth quickly turned to concern, “Dear Lord, girl, you’re shaking!” He led her over to the couch, sat her down gently, and handed her his glass, “Drink this, it should help steady your nerves.”
Buffy took a couple sips and then looked up at him for a moment in confusion as she took in his appearance: the tousled hair, the earring, the jeans, and the white undershirt. “Uh, Giles, is there any more of that cursed candy around?”
“You...” She stated, finishing what was left in her glass and waving her hand in his direction. “Look... good!” The word hot came to mind first, but she was able to edit herself before blurting it out.
Giles ducked his head and smiled shyly, “Thank you. Just wanted to be comfortable. Let me freshen that for you.”
Looking up at him she admonished, “You know, you shouldn’t drink alone.”
“I’m not.” He said pouring two glasses of The Glenlivet XXV Scotch Whisky he had been saving for special occasions.
“Well, not now!” She giggled, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. She wasn’t much of a drinker after having fallen victim to cursed beer during her freshman year at college.
“I was just celebrating your victory over the Council of goons.” Walking back to her, he handed her the glass and lightly touched her cheek with the tip of his index finger, keeping contact with her skin as he dropped his hand. “You were bloody brilliant, Buffy! I have never been so proud!”
Buffy’s heart raced as she felt his touch and she watched his jade colored eyes soften as he took a seat next to her on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table. Damn, he had cute toes. Needing to relieve some of the tension growing between them, she took a drink and asked, “Bare feet?”
He leaned back into the cushions, turned his head to look at her, peering over the rim of his glass as he downed more of the alcohol, “My flat.” He stated simply searching her eyes. He thought he knew those mossy green pools by heart. How they would go wide with incredulity or fear, like they had when Travers had threatened his green card, how they shone with a fierceness when she was focused on slaying the latest Big Bad, as the Scoobies so eloquently put it, or how she gazed upon those she loved with an expression tinged with both affection and sadness when she thought no one was looking. But there was something different in them tonight and he couldn’t figure out what it was. Relief mixed with the alcohol perhaps.
Feeling a need to break away from his scrutiny, Buffy got up and walked over to retrieve the bottle of scotch. “I understand why you like this stuff.” She offered conversationally. “It’s really smooth.”
He watched as she returned to the couch and topped off their glasses. She was so deliberate in her movements. Even a little tipsy, she still had a grace and elegance about her.
“So, we’re celebrating?” She asked.
“Indeed. To you and your mastery over Travers and his merry misfits! May the Council finally understand that its duty is towards the Slayer.” Giles toasted as he clinked his glass against hers.
Buffy smiled and reciprocated the gesture, “I couldn’t have done it without my trusty Watcher!”
They both knocked back their drinks and banged the glasses down on the coffee table grinning smugly at each other before she filled the glasses again.
“I’m serious, Buffy, you were magnificent! I stood in awe as you dismantled them. Quentin looked physically ill as you handed down your ultimatum.” He chuckled and took another draught, resisting the sudden urge to touch her.
“Yeah, and the look on Nigel’s face was so indignant! I thought he was gonna pee his pants when I threw that sword at him.” She laughed and he started giggling. It made her insides go mushy. Her Watcher, giggling, barefoot, casual... earring... sexy. Sexy?? She had always thought him good looking, but unapproachable. He was Giles, her stalwart Watcher. Now he looked... No! She downed more of the alcohol and stood up quickly, “Hey, I’m going to check out your CDs, we need music!”
“Alright. There’s quite a selection.” He kept his eyes trained on her as she navigated her way over to the entertainment center. The black clothing she wore for patrol hugged her body and he found himself admiring her curves in a decidedly un-Watcher like way. She’d let her hair grow longer than she ever had in the time he’d known her. Long. Soft. Beautiful. He ached to run his hands through it. She really was stunning.
“Oh, you have Sting’s Nothing Like the Sun!” She said excitedly as she put the CD in the player, pulling him from his thoughts.
Weaving her way back to the couch, she lost her balance. Giles moved forward to catch her as she stumbled into his arms and he pulled her towards him so that she was seated in his lap. So much for grace! Laughing he observed, “You, my dear, have had a few too many.”
With a defiant smile, she picked up the bottle of whisky, pulled out the cork and took a big gulp of the honey-gold liquid, “Haven’t you noticed? I’m all about telling authority to take a flying leap. How about you?”
“Fuck authority!” Giles unleashed his Ripper grin and took the proffered bottle, drinking deeply from it. She hadn’t moved and he still held her, one arm around her tiny waist. God, she was so warm and cuddly. He could feel himself teetering towards a precipice.
“Oh, what’s this?” The blonde asked noticing the photo on the table for the first time. She picked it up and traced her finger along his face in the picture. “Wow, it’s us! You must’ve kicked my ass, cuz you have that look goin’ on.”
“Which look is that?” The Watcher asked, setting the scotch back on the table, wrapping his now free arm around her, and peering over her to inspect the image.
“The one that says, ‘I’m schoolin’ my Slayer today!’”
He barked out a laugh and rested his chin on her shoulder, “Yes, I’m pretty sure I did that day.”
His breath tickled her neck and as she closed her eyes, she tilted her head to the side at the sensation, her body beginning to betray her: warmth flooding her core, her breathing pattern becoming erratic. “We don’t have many pictures of just us together, do we?” She asked regretfully.
“No, this is the only one that I know of.” He answered, his already deep voice lowering. Taking in the mixture of her scent and the light floral perfume she wore, he could feel things start to spiral out of control. The feelings she was invoking in him were as intoxicating as the scotch and he noticed a certain part of his anatomy begin to stir.
“We need to change that. I have one of us at the prom.” Buffy stated barely above a whisper, letting out a soft moan as he nuzzled his nose against the sensitive spot on her neck just below her ear. “Giles?”
“Hmmm?” His mouth was dangerously close to the scars where the vampires had drunk from her and he wanted to bite and kiss the marred skin away, to claim her as his, but he was still lucid enough to know he shouldn’t.
“I meant it.”
He felt her shiver in his arms and held her tighter, “Meant what, love?”
Turning her head slightly so that she could look at him, she explained, “That they picked the perfect thing to threaten me with. Taking you from me. I... I can’t lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Buffy. I didn’t the last time they tried to separate us and I won’t now.”
“But they could have...”
“Shhh... because you brilliantly outwitted them at their own game, I’m still here.” He leaned down experimentally to see what she would do, if she would accept his offer.
She watched his sensual lips as they slowly descended towards hers before looking up into his beautiful green eyes, so vivid, and darker than she’d ever seen them before. Her breath caught in her throat and she moved to meet him halfway.
His lips caught hers, experimenting with tiny feather light kisses, testing her reactions, and demanding more from her. She shifted in his lap to better her angle and he moved his hands up to cup both sides of her face, drawing her in closer. Wrapping her arms around his torso, Buffy explored the taut muscles of his back as she parted her lips, releasing a muted whimper. Without a moment’s hesitation, Giles plundered her mouth, tasting her, stroking her tongue with his. The sensation was sweet, unlike any he had ever known and better than anything his imagination had come up with when he was alone and dropped his guard, allowing his mind to wander down that path with her.
She turned to face him with her usual lack of patience, fervently returning his kiss and moving to straddle his thighs. Giles felt himself harden as she sat back down on his lap and he involuntarily bucked against her, eliciting simultaneous moans from both of them.
“God, Buffy!” He declared as he broke the kiss resting his forehead against hers.
Her emotions got the better of her, and the Slayer panicked, attempted to get up, and apologized nervously, “I... I-I’m sorry, Giles. I can’t...” When she got to her feet, she looked at him. He was leaning back against the sofa, staring at her wide eyed. “I know... I know how deeply I feel for you and we’ve... had quite a bit to drink. It could lead to a very bad place for us tomorrow.”
Before she could turn and leave, the Watcher’s hand darted out, grabbing her wrist before gently pulling her down to sit next to him. With his other hand, he carefully pushed back an errant strand of blonde hair and tucked it behind her ear as he searched her face, noting the apprehension in her eyes. Eyes that could easily spill the tears she was bravely trying to hold back. Slowly and gently, he moved in to kiss her lips once more. “Smoother than satin and softer than velvet,” he mused aloud in wonder, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone and looking into those beautiful green depths. Winking at her, he mused, “I’m not as think as you drunk I am, love.”
Giggling in spite of herself, Buffy put her arms around him, resting her cheek against his muscular chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Nor I you. Dance with me, Buffy, please?” Giles asked as the first few bars of ‘Sister Moon’ started. She let go of him and he stood up, guiding her around the coffee table where there was more space. She put her arms around his neck, he wrapped his around her waist, and they swayed to the sultry song, pressed up against each other as the Englishman crooned along with his fellow countryman. Halfway through the song, the petite blonde looked up at him, saw the tenderness in his gaze, and drew his head down to meet her lips with his. He allowed her to take the lead, wanting her to be sure... willing her to want him.
Her first kiss was tentative, but as she felt his eager response, she grew bolder, crushing her lips against his, exploring his mouth with her tongue, and drawing her hands down his broad chest and back up to his shoulders, feeling the strength he possessed throughout his upper body. Strength she acknowledged every time they trained together, but which now, suddenly, took on a different meaning. He groaned at the sensation she was causing in him and drew his hands up her sides and over the swell of her breasts. He could feel her hardened nipples through the black v-neck sweater she wore and he pinched them lightly through the soft material.
“Giles,” she managed.
“Buffy, tell me to stop... tell me.” He begged, as he moved his hands down to cup her firm bottom, drawing her closer and biting down on the vampires’ mark like he had wanted to do earlier.
She let out a strangled groan of delight at the sensation of teeth against the tender patch of skin, and she grabbed his biceps for support as she felt her knees buckle for a moment. “I can’t,” she panted. “Want you... so much.”
He picked her up, as a groom does his bride, and carried her cautiously up the stairs, mindful of the fact that he wasn’t quite as steady on his feet as he should have been thanks to the amount of scotch he had consumed. Buffy’s lips and teeth found their way to the earring and she bit down on the lobe and tugged gently on the hoop. “Yes!” He hissed, drawing in a breath as he reached the entrance to the loft, the soft light from the lamps downstairs illuminating the room.
Stepping through the threshold, he moved over to the bed, carefully setting her down before kneeling in front of her. Very deliberately he brought the leg of her slacks up to her knee and unzipped her boot, kissing his way down to her ankle before pulling it off and setting it down. He gently massaged her lower leg, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath his calloused hands. Removing her sock, Giles leaned in to place open-mouth kisses on her instep and ankle before slowly nibbling his way back up her calf as he lightly rubbed the ball of her foot. Buffy moaned and squirmed under his attentions and when he was satisfied with his work, he moved on to the other leg, repeating his exploits.
The Slayer ran her free foot teasingly over the straining bulge in his denims and caught his eyes when he raised them to look at her. She watched in fascination as he trailed his tongue up her calf and kissed the inside of her knee. The sensation was titillating and she wanted nothing more than to touch him, to kiss him. She ran her hands through his soft tousled hair, scratching his scalp lightly. Giles’ hands ghosted their way up her thighs and he rested his head in her lap, purring contentedly. Buffy thought it was the cutest thing she had ever heard and she lifted his head up with both hands and gazed into his eyes.
“I adore you, Buffy.” He declared ardently.
Buffy pulled him up to his full height on his knees and crashed her lips down on his, desperate for his touch, not able to get enough of him. When they broke apart, she pleaded, “Make love to me, Giles.”
He raised himself up, sat on the bed, and ran the backs of his finger down her cheek and over her throat before leaning in to take her lips in a sensual kiss. As his tongue invaded her mouth, his hands moved under her sweater, seeking out the perky breasts contained beneath.
She let out a soft whimper as he squeezed the firm mounds and circled her nipples with his thumbs. Their tongues danced and she explored his mouth, licking the back of his teeth and biting his lower lip. Wanting to touch him, she placed her hands on his waist and explored his taut stomach. He wasn’t a young buck with six-pack abs anymore, but he was still in great shape and she could feel the casual power radiating from beneath his skin. Their renewed daily training on top of his running regimen had definitely improved upon his already athletic physique. With a smug expression she felt his breathing grow shallow as she lifted his t-shirt to pull it off of him.
Once his shirt was disposed of, Giles reached down and lifted Buffy’s sweater off, revealing a lacy black bra. He stared in silent admiration for a moment, her nipples pink and pert beneath the dark tatting. Leaning down he licked and mouthed a hardened bud while he pinched and teased the other one with deft fingers. The feeling of his hot tongue and the roughness of the lace drove the Slayer to distraction and she raked her fingernails down his back causing him to cry out at the sweet erotic pain. His cock was now impossibly hard and the restraint of his jeans was too much to bear.
Buffy sensed his need and her hands moved to the waistband of his denims, slowly unbuttoning his fly and releasing his straining manhood. “Commando?” She asked in astonishment of her usually proper Watcher as she lightly ran her fingers over his hot pulsing member.
The Englishman fell back into the pillows and murmured, “Always with jeans.”
Her touch was exquisite and he raised his hips so she could remove the last article of clothing he was wearing. She kissed her way back up his thighs and he lifted his head to watch her just as she trailed her tongue around the tip of his cock, “Oh, God, Buffy!” Grinning wickedly, she kept her eyes trained on his as she took him whole and then slowly sucked her way back up to the head.
Panting and trying to get himself under control, Giles threw his head back onto the pillows. Watching her go down on him was the most erotic thing he had ever seen and he was thankful for the alcohol in his system as it reduced his sensitivity somewhat. The physical and visual stimulation were almost too much for him and he growled in desperation when she started to massage his balls and stroke the base of his shaft with her hands.
She lipped her way around the tip as she pumped his member, dipping her tongue into the slit to lap up some of the pre cum that had already accumulated there. Buffy then nibbled up the trail of hair to his belly button. Her Watcher panted for breath as he writhed beneath her ministrations and she watched his chest and torso heave with effort as she continued lavishing her attentions on him.
Giles placed a hand on hers, stopping her movements. The Slayer understood the gesture and let go of his cock sliding her hands up his sides as she straddled him, placing open-mouth kisses up his tummy and chest.
Gently rolling them both over so he was on top, the earnest Englishman looked down at her, lust darkening his usually pale eyes, and murmured, “You are wearing far too many clothes for this game, Miss Summers.”
“Oh, I wholeheartedly agree, Mr. Giles.” She responded as he carefully unbuttoned her black slacks and drew down the zipper, revealing black lace panties that matched her bra. Giles chuckled appreciatively, it was just like his fashion conscious Slayer to wear sexy underthings and coordinate them. Smirking, he slowly removed her pants as though he were opening the last gift on Christmas morning, savoring the moment and committing it to memory. He could smell her musky arousal and let out a low growl of anticipation. Her skin was soft, but he could feel the hard muscles just below the surface, muscles that exuded the power and grace he admired; and though she had been bronzed by the previous summer’s sun the tan had long since faded, leaving her pale skin with a healthy glow.
The Watcher nibbled his way back up her legs and settled himself in between her thighs, nestling his nose against the black lace that separated them. She was already so wet for him and he mouthed her swollen nub through the thin scrap of material. Shuddering at his touch the blonde ground against his lips looking for relief from the glorious throbbing ache in her core.
“Eager, my little Slayer?”
A heartbeat later, he ripped through the panties and pulled them off, exploring her folds with his tongue and lapping up the sweet nectar contained within. She moaned appreciatively and he felt her hand thread its way through his hair pushing him further into her as he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves. Redoubling his efforts, he entered her depths with first one finger, adding a second one after a few thrusts. He could feel the tension rise in her body as he drew her closer and closer to climax, but keeping her just shy of going over.
Buffy thrashed and whimpered. She was so close! She... couldn’t think anymore. Pulling the cups of her bra down, she kneaded her breasts in desperation, pinching the sensitive nipples. “Giles... please!” She begged.
Her lover gave himself a self-congratulatory smirk as he curved his long slender fingers and brushed over her g-spot, pumping in and out of her, sucking her throbbing clit. Within seconds she let out a strangled cry as she came harder than she ever had before, and she clawed at him until he brought himself up to join her on the pillows and she was able to wrap her arms around him. Burying her face in his neck, she occasionally kissed him as she rode out the remaining waves of her orgasm.
Giles held her in wonder. She had been so responsive. Never had any of his previous lovers been so free in their lovemaking, or so giving. He supposed it would have to be different with a Slayer, that she would burn hotter and brighter than any other. Feeling her lightly stroke his chest with her fingers, he glanced down to find her looking at him, flushed and freshly fucked, radiant and with eyes full of mischief.
Her hand traveled down his abdomen and past his belly button before settling on his engorged member. “I want to feel you!”
“Not sated yet?” He asked jokingly, leaning down to kiss her full pouty lips.
Shaking her head, she squeezed his hot shaft and answered, “Not done playing. Someone is still so incredibly hard.”
“Yes!” He ground out between gritted teeth. “God, I want to be in you, Buffy!” Reaching around her, he unhooked her bra and exposed the perfect breasts he’d gotten a quick glimpse of a few minutes earlier. He took a moment to drink in the sight of her naked body. At a loss for words, the usually articulate Watcher drew in a breath and mumbled, “Dear Lord!”
Buffy pulled him over her and kissed him deeply, her tongue stroking his as she wove her fingers through his hair. Propping himself up with his right hand, Giles responded hungrily, unable to get enough of her. His left hand danced over her torso, occasionally stopping long enough to tease a perky nipple. When their kiss ended, he looked into his lover’s eyes trying to find answers to a multitude of questions but ultimately only looking for assent. Finding it, he took his thick cock in his hand and guided it to her entrance. They both groaned when he rubbed his length up and down her slit coating it in her juices, and she bucked beneath him as he massaged her tender clit with its head.
“So impatient, my love.” The Englishman teased, bending his arms and lowering himself to gently bite down on that delicate area on her neck just below her ear. Satisfied when he heard her whimper, he pushed himself up again and sat back on his knees. Pulling her towards him, he raised her hips, and entered her slowly. She was tight and he made sure to give her time to adjust as he buried himself deep within her, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of being enveloped by her slick heat.
The immediate sense of oneness with her Watcher took the Slayer by surprise. It was at the exact moment of their joining that she stopped feeling the isolation that her Calling had left her with. Instead, she felt a total completion with him. Reaching up, she cupped his cheek and found his intense eyes boring into hers. He leaned into her touch and rubbed his cheek against it as though he were a giant cat. Joining his hand with hers, he dragged it along his scratchy jawline, and placed an open-mouth kiss on the inside of her wrist. He then brought them down and laced their fingers together palm to palm before joining their other hands in the same manner. Buffy smiled, rocking her hips against him, and taking his cue, he began to thrust steadily into her.
He felt her inner muscles grip his cock with a sweet strength he’d never felt before. Raising their entwined hands, he set them down above her head so he could gain some leverage as he increased the pace and drove into her harder. Her moans and whimpers excited him, and he moved one of her hands over to the other and restrained it with his right hand before trailing the fingers of his left hand lightly over her eyes and nose, and then over her lips, where she caught his index finger with her teeth, licking and nipping it gently before letting it go.
“My naughty, naughty little minx!” He admonished, his eyes dark and playful. His hand slipped into her hair and around to the nape of her neck where he lifted her head to take her mouth in a possessive and searing kiss.
Buffy responded eagerly, sucking on his tongue, and while she wanted to break his hold and grab him, she resisted the urge to do so. Years of training with him had taught her that perhaps this was not the time to push her Watcher. She felt his hand release her head and move down over her shoulder and over the gentle rise where he lightly grazed an extremely sensitive nipple causing her internal walls to grab his cock and her to grind against him outside of the rhythm they had established.
He bit his lower lip to steady himself, redoubling his efforts, finally letting go of her hands as he placed his on either side of her head, shoulder width apart, supporting himself as he pumped into her. “Buffy...”
“So close, Giles! Make me come!” She demanded. “Oh God, I love you!”
Her declaration left him momentarily speechless and he drove into her with a blinding passion. “Come for me, darling,” he growled and reached down, stroking her swollen clit with his thumb. It was all she needed and she screamed her release, her tight channel convulsing against his pounding shaft, her juices flooding over him. She looked so beautiful writhing in the throes of ecstasy, and the physical sensations, on top of the intense emotions he was riding, overwhelmed the Englishman and he thrust twice more before burying himself to the hilt, calling her name, and emptying himself deep inside of her.
Almost on the verge of collapse, he gently rolled them to the side, hugging her tightly, and Buffy desperately grabbed his backside, not wanting to lose the intimate contact just yet, that amazing feeling of oneness. She rested her head against his chest, the downy hair tickling her nose. After a few minutes, his breathing started to even out and his softening cock slipped out of her. She immediately felt the loss, wondering if he was asleep and worrying whether it had all been a huge drunken mistake. Carefully moving out of his embrace, the young woman sat up in the bed contemplating what to do.
Giles felt her move and opened his eyes. The Slayer was sitting with her head down and shoulders slumped, and he shifted his body so that he sat before her, bringing his hand up under her chin to make her look at him. The concerned Brit saw the uncertainty in her stormy green eyes and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. “My darling Buffy, you are so beautiful. So strong. In body.” He kissed her lips. “In mind.” He placed another on her forehead. “And so very strong in heart.” He declared, placing an open-mouth kiss on her chest. “A true warrior! And tonight, you proved what a brilliant tactician you are, bending the Council to your will. My God, how could I help but fall in love with you.”
Buffy smiled broadly, blinking back the tears that had formed in her eyes. She knew Giles loved her, but she had been so sure for so long that it was a platonic love. She sat up on her knees and kissed him with all her passion. When it finally ended she peered into his gorgeous green eyes, expressing what was in her heart, “I love you so much, Giles! And it still scares me that they might come and take you away. I can’t lose you. Not now!”
Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips, “I think Quentin understands who he’s dealing with now. You’ve made it quite clear who your Watcher is and I think he understands we won’t be parted, my love. If he tries to interfere again, I will thrash him!” He kissed his way up her arm and started to nibble on her shoulder.
She started giggling, “If Quentin could see us now! Maybe we should send him a fruit basket. I mean, he is responsible for my visit tonight.”
“And a bottle of scotch.” The Watcher added as he pounced on her, growling playfully, biting her neck, and pushing her down onto the pillows.