You. You. You. Was all Giles could think of for a second as Wesley's words caused yet another jolt of arousal. Oh dear lord. He felt his face flush. "Hm, well, ah. I'd like to reserve my...request until I find out some more about your hidden talents. He winced internally, hoping that that didn't come out as a double entendre.
"Other than fleecing unsuspecting pubgoers for pocket money, do you have any other...hobbies? Giles was able to muster up a mischevious smile. Where had his coffee cup gone? His throat was really dry. "Do you mind if I get myself a bit of water from your pitcher? I'm a touch thirsty."
"Be my guest." Wesley shifted his legs a bit as Rupert got up to pour himself a glass. He was still a little embarassed about his raging hard-on, and not sure how Rupert might react to...well, Wesley's reaction to him. Wasn't I supposed to be talking about something? Ah, yes hobbies.
"Well, I've a collection of a few, rare demonic manuscripts, but I suppose that's work related. I've always liked to garden, though..."
He was trying not to watch the man's every move, so he kept his eyes on the counterpaine, but Giles aroma was so strong, so wonderful that he found himself glancing over at the man.
Giles' head was tilted back, exposing the long line of this throat. Wesley watched as his adam's apple bobbed, and a small drop of water clung to his mouth as he took the glass away. He gulped and shifted again, discovering that yes, he could become even harder.
The older man took in Wes' glassy-eyed stare, his gulp and momentary fixation with his mouth. His breathing also seemed to have picked up a bit. As Giles put down the glass, he licked his own lips, and could see in his perepheral vision Wesley mirror his actions. And squirm a bit. A flush of triumph washed through him. Arousal, then. He licks his lips when he's aroused.
"Wes, you were saying? About gardening?" He looked back at the man, catching those deep blue eyes with his own. He couldn't seem to force himself back to his chair.
Instead, he stood there, smiling softly and waiting to see how long it took Wes to answer his question. Oh, yes, this was going to be more fun than he'd had in a long time. He had to remind himself to tread carefully, not to move too quickly and perhaps scare Wesley off. He needed to know more about Wes' current state, mental and emotional, before he began anything more than watching and, perhaps, slight flirting. Of course, keeping that in mind might very well prove difficult.
Especially when Wesley kept looking at him like that.
"Oh, uh," Wesley force himself to take more shallow breath, trying to block out that scent enough to think. "I enjoy gardening. I'm quite good at it, actually."
"Well, then I believe that's what I'll request."
"I'm sorry?" Wes blinked, unsure what Giles was talking about for a moment. Request? Oh, the bets! Right. God, he wanted to get closer to that scent, bury his nose against Giles' skin, run his tongue down . . . Oh, no. Don't even think it, he warned his own mind, pushing the thought aside.
"For the wager," Giles explained with a patient smile, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I have some herbs that need planted at my flat and, er, Willow won't send me any more if I let these languish in their pots. I've never gardened, so . . . if I when, you transplant the herbs for me."
"Right. That sounds fair." Wesley pulled his knees up, pulling the blankets taut so that he was sure Giles couldn't see what certain parts of his body were doing. And he was so close, right there on the edge of the bed, looking as if he expected Wes to be able to chat. "So, uh, when-when do you think we'll be able to, uh, do that?"
"Well, if you have to be able to stand and walk. Other than that, whenever you like." Giles tried not to grin, watching Wes squirm, that tongue darting once more over his lips. He wanted to lean in, to capture it between his own lips, suck lightly before pushing inside that sweet mouth and--"So, uh . . ." swallowing hard, Giles cast about for another subject.
Something that will let me know more about him, without seeming to intrusive.
"Other than fleecing unsuspecting pubgoers for pocket money, do you have any other...hobbies? Giles was able to muster up a mischevious smile. Where had his coffee cup gone? His throat was really dry. "Do you mind if I get myself a bit of water from your pitcher? I'm a touch thirsty."
"Be my guest." Wesley shifted his legs a bit as Rupert got up to pour himself a glass. He was still a little embarassed about his raging hard-on, and not sure how Rupert might react to...well, Wesley's reaction to him. Wasn't I supposed to be talking about something? Ah, yes hobbies.
"Well, I've a collection of a few, rare demonic manuscripts, but I suppose that's work related. I've always liked to garden, though..."
He was trying not to watch the man's every move, so he kept his eyes on the counterpaine, but Giles aroma was so strong, so wonderful that he found himself glancing over at the man.
Giles' head was tilted back, exposing the long line of this throat. Wesley watched as his adam's apple bobbed, and a small drop of water clung to his mouth as he took the glass away. He gulped and shifted again, discovering that yes, he could become even harder.
The older man took in Wes' glassy-eyed stare, his gulp and momentary fixation with his mouth. His breathing also seemed to have picked up a bit. As Giles put down the glass, he licked his own lips, and could see in his perepheral vision Wesley mirror his actions. And squirm a bit. A flush of triumph washed through him. Arousal, then. He licks his lips when he's aroused.
"Wes, you were saying? About gardening?" He looked back at the man, catching those deep blue eyes with his own. He couldn't seem to force himself back to his chair.
Reply
Especially when Wesley kept looking at him like that.
"Oh, uh," Wesley force himself to take more shallow breath, trying to block out that scent enough to think. "I enjoy gardening. I'm quite good at it, actually."
"Well, then I believe that's what I'll request."
"I'm sorry?" Wes blinked, unsure what Giles was talking about for a moment. Request? Oh, the bets! Right. God, he wanted to get closer to that scent, bury his nose against Giles' skin, run his tongue down . . . Oh, no. Don't even think it, he warned his own mind, pushing the thought aside.
"For the wager," Giles explained with a patient smile, sitting on the edge of his bed. "I have some herbs that need planted at my flat and, er, Willow won't send me any more if I let these languish in their pots. I've never gardened, so . . . if I when, you transplant the herbs for me."
"Right. That sounds fair." Wesley pulled his knees up, pulling the blankets taut so that he was sure Giles couldn't see what certain parts of his body were doing. And he was so close, right there on the edge of the bed, looking as if he expected Wes to be able to chat. "So, uh, when-when do you think we'll be able to, uh, do that?"
"Well, if you have to be able to stand and walk. Other than that, whenever you like." Giles tried not to grin, watching Wes squirm, that tongue darting once more over his lips. He wanted to lean in, to capture it between his own lips, suck lightly before pushing inside that sweet mouth and--"So, uh . . ." swallowing hard, Giles cast about for another subject.
Something that will let me know more about him, without seeming to intrusive.
Reply
Leave a comment