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.
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