BtVS: "Science Lessons" (Fred/Giles, NC-17)
Title: Science Lessons
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Giles/Fred, Giles/Fred/Faith
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Giles' understanding of science is dismal, and Fred does something about it. With spanking.
Science Lessons
It was his own damn fault. If he had never let her read his Watcher's Diaries in the first place, none of this would ever happened.
No, it was Roger and Tish Burkle's fought. If they had never let her learn to read in the first place, not only would this situation never have happened, but neither would she have wounded up working in a library and then in Pylea for five years, and she would have been spared that nightmare. (So it would have been for her own benefit, in the end.)
But if there is one thing Giles has learned in his years as a Watcher it is that placing blame is rarely a productive activity. What has happened has happened, and he must deal with the consequences. He opens up the book in front of him and stares at it. He can make out some Greek here and there, but for the most part it is totally unintelligible.
. . .
"What is this?" she had asked, confronting him.
"My Watcher's Diary," he had observed, not quite understanding what she was getting at. "Would you mind not holding it in such a haphazard fashion? It is somewhat delicate."
"Look at this," she said, opening the book to a spot relatively closely to the beginning. "Rupert, quantum mechanics does not say that reality is created by our perception."
He took off his glasses. "Well, certain-
She closed the book and looked him in the eye. "No. It's a gross misinterpretation. Seriously, where did you learn your science? Social Text?"
Giles looked away. "Fritjof Capra, mostly, if you insist on knowing."
Fred sighed. "I should have guessed. Now, you are the most senior Watcher in this organization. I don't think expecting you to understand a little bit of science is really too much to ask for. You are not having sex again until you've demonstrated at least a rudimentary grasp of physics." She stepped forward and placed a finger on his templed, tracing the line of his jaw down to his chin. "You understand me?"
Giles swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."
*
Fred's concept of "a little bit of science" or "a rudimentary grasp of physics" was . . . perhaps not an ordinary person's.
She gave him a reading list: Hawking's A Brief History of Time, Lange's An Introduction to the Philosophy of Physics, Hughes' The Structure and Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics, Bell's Speakable and Unspeakable in Quantum Mechanics, Reichenbach's Philosophy of Space and Time. "That'll do for a start," she told him.
He made his way through them, understanding as much as he could, trying to make sense of the rest. Etruscan was easier. Proto-Bantu, even, with its concepts that were their own opposite, eternally locked in their own linguistic dialectic. Languages held a poetry that spoke to him, while all of this seemed dead, lifeless.
"You really think the Marcie Ross incident wasn't a scientific phenomenon?" he asked idly as he flipped the page to reveal more of what might as well been Lewis Carroll poetry.
"It's a meaningless phrase," Fred said, watching him. "There's phenomenon, and there's science, which we then use to make models for the phenomenon. But Clarke's Law aside, if we're going to sort out our explanations into the scientific and the magical, I think 'The Hellmouth turned her invisible' probably falls into the latter category, yes."
*
"I'm ready," he told her.
"Very well," she said. "Call Faith, tell her to come over."
*
Fred placed a wooden spanking paddle on the table. "This is how this is going to work," she said. "I will quiz you on what you have learned, Rupert. If you answer wrong, you will remove an article of clothing. If you answer correctly, you may put a removed article of clothing back on. If you answer correctly while fully clothed, either Faith or myself will remove an article of clothing. If you remove all of your clothing, you'll go home with a pink ass and a hard-on. If I end up naked, you get to spank, then fuck, me. Understood?"
Giles nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Fred turned to Faith. "You ready?"
Faith grinned. "Oh, I'm ready."
Fred nodded and turned back to Giles. "Who proved that quantum mechanics requires a logic substantially different than classical logic?"
Giles frowned. She expected him to know the history? He had hoped she would constrain herself to simply quizzing him on the concepts. He strained his mind, trying to remember. "Von Neuman?"
Fred was impassive. "And?"
Shit. "Dirac?"
A smile passed Fred's lips. "Take it off, Rupert."
Twenty minutes later, Giles was naked.
Twenty-one minutes later, Faith was taking the paddle to his rear while Fred knelt in front of him, her fingers gently, slowly passing over his scrotum as she counted the blows which came none too quickly. "I'm disappointed in you, Rupert," she said as she slid her fingers down his penis and began stroking the glans with her thumb. He was already hard, of course, and after so many nights it wouldn't have taken much to have made him come, but as quickly as she had begun she stopped, sliding her fingers back up to the scrotum, gently--for Fred--massaging his testicles.
And then, when he couldn't decide what was worse, the pain in his rear or the ache in his front, Fred took her hand away and stood up. "That's enough, Faith," she said, as she smoothed out her pleated skirt. "Put your clothes on, Rupert, and get out of here. Come back when you can demonstrate that you've actually learned something."
. . .
It's begun to interfere with his duties. He was training the girls, teaching them how to use a vampire's speed against it, when his unsatisfied sex drive rose up despite himself. He couldn't concentrate, kept on getting distracted by the knowledge of just how female his young charges are, information he is usually able to compartmentalize away as irrelevant to the task at hand.
If he is honest, he knows the only thing keeping him from taking advantage of those girls is the fact that Fred said that he wasn't to have sex, period, until he satisfied her requirements, not just no sex with Fred. And he knows that if he disobeys her, she will find out, and make him sorry for it.
So there is only one thing to be done: he throws himself into his research anew. He will pass her test, because he must pass her test; the fate of the world hinges upon it.
. . .
He tells Fred that he's ready; she calls Faith and he wonders if the Slayer quite gets the concept, because she shows up wearing even less clothing than she did the last time.
He gets the first question wrong, takes off a shoe, but he gets the next two right and Faith pulls off her shirt to reveal she isn't wearing a bra--although that was actually quite clear even when she still had the shirt on. The trial goes on, fluctuating wildly as he's ahead one moment and behind the next, but in the end he answers more questions right than he does wrong and eventually--hours later, and he's all but worn out, but eventually--both Fred and Faith are naked and bent over the dining room table as he paddles their behinds, the blows striking as hard as he can on Faith's and more gently (but not by much) on Fred's. But his strength quickly flags and he flips Fred over, hungrily eyes up her naked body which is his, all his.
"On your knees," he commands her, and she obeys instantly, sinking to her knees. She unfastens his trousers, pulls them and his pants down just enough to take him in her mouth, the warmth enveloping him, inviting him to pleasures he has been denied for far too long. Her tongue skillfully works its magic, until he's mere seconds until ejaculation, and this time it's he who pulls away.
He crosses the room to get a condom, takes his time taking it out of its package, and as he does so he slips gradually back away from the brink. He puts on the condom, grabs Fred at the shoulders and pulls her up to her feet, and then thrusts himself into her with an urgency which is almost violent. He's back at the brink again more quickly than he would have thought possible, as he bites her chin and squeezes her breast and the other hand slides over the still-warm bruises which cover her arse, and then he's over it and he comes.
Fred looks at him as he makes his way to the wastebasket to throw out the used condom; he knows the few moments he spent inside her could hardly have done anything for her. But she says nothing, for he has passed the test she had given him and she had promised to submit.
He's not going to go down on her, not tonight, but he shoots a meaningful look at Faith, who stands, still naked, watching the two of them with an amused look on her face, and Fred nods and soon her head is buried between Faith's legs and Faith's head between Fred's legs. Giles watches the two of them in their 69, a yin and a yang, and it occurs to him that Fred might well reject it as pseudoscientific nonsense for him to make a connection to quantum complementarity, but then again she might not, and either way he really just doesn't care.
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Giles/Fred, Giles/Fred/Faith
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Giles' understanding of science is dismal, and Fred does something about it. With spanking.
Science Lessons
It was his own damn fault. If he had never let her read his Watcher's Diaries in the first place, none of this would ever happened.
No, it was Roger and Tish Burkle's fought. If they had never let her learn to read in the first place, not only would this situation never have happened, but neither would she have wounded up working in a library and then in Pylea for five years, and she would have been spared that nightmare. (So it would have been for her own benefit, in the end.)
But if there is one thing Giles has learned in his years as a Watcher it is that placing blame is rarely a productive activity. What has happened has happened, and he must deal with the consequences. He opens up the book in front of him and stares at it. He can make out some Greek here and there, but for the most part it is totally unintelligible.
. . .
"What is this?" she had asked, confronting him.
"My Watcher's Diary," he had observed, not quite understanding what she was getting at. "Would you mind not holding it in such a haphazard fashion? It is somewhat delicate."
"Look at this," she said, opening the book to a spot relatively closely to the beginning. "Rupert, quantum mechanics does not say that reality is created by our perception."
He took off his glasses. "Well, certain-
She closed the book and looked him in the eye. "No. It's a gross misinterpretation. Seriously, where did you learn your science? Social Text?"
Giles looked away. "Fritjof Capra, mostly, if you insist on knowing."
Fred sighed. "I should have guessed. Now, you are the most senior Watcher in this organization. I don't think expecting you to understand a little bit of science is really too much to ask for. You are not having sex again until you've demonstrated at least a rudimentary grasp of physics." She stepped forward and placed a finger on his templed, tracing the line of his jaw down to his chin. "You understand me?"
Giles swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."
*
Fred's concept of "a little bit of science" or "a rudimentary grasp of physics" was . . . perhaps not an ordinary person's.
She gave him a reading list: Hawking's A Brief History of Time, Lange's An Introduction to the Philosophy of Physics, Hughes' The Structure and Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics, Bell's Speakable and Unspeakable in Quantum Mechanics, Reichenbach's Philosophy of Space and Time. "That'll do for a start," she told him.
He made his way through them, understanding as much as he could, trying to make sense of the rest. Etruscan was easier. Proto-Bantu, even, with its concepts that were their own opposite, eternally locked in their own linguistic dialectic. Languages held a poetry that spoke to him, while all of this seemed dead, lifeless.
"You really think the Marcie Ross incident wasn't a scientific phenomenon?" he asked idly as he flipped the page to reveal more of what might as well been Lewis Carroll poetry.
"It's a meaningless phrase," Fred said, watching him. "There's phenomenon, and there's science, which we then use to make models for the phenomenon. But Clarke's Law aside, if we're going to sort out our explanations into the scientific and the magical, I think 'The Hellmouth turned her invisible' probably falls into the latter category, yes."
*
"I'm ready," he told her.
"Very well," she said. "Call Faith, tell her to come over."
*
Fred placed a wooden spanking paddle on the table. "This is how this is going to work," she said. "I will quiz you on what you have learned, Rupert. If you answer wrong, you will remove an article of clothing. If you answer correctly, you may put a removed article of clothing back on. If you answer correctly while fully clothed, either Faith or myself will remove an article of clothing. If you remove all of your clothing, you'll go home with a pink ass and a hard-on. If I end up naked, you get to spank, then fuck, me. Understood?"
Giles nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
Fred turned to Faith. "You ready?"
Faith grinned. "Oh, I'm ready."
Fred nodded and turned back to Giles. "Who proved that quantum mechanics requires a logic substantially different than classical logic?"
Giles frowned. She expected him to know the history? He had hoped she would constrain herself to simply quizzing him on the concepts. He strained his mind, trying to remember. "Von Neuman?"
Fred was impassive. "And?"
Shit. "Dirac?"
A smile passed Fred's lips. "Take it off, Rupert."
Twenty minutes later, Giles was naked.
Twenty-one minutes later, Faith was taking the paddle to his rear while Fred knelt in front of him, her fingers gently, slowly passing over his scrotum as she counted the blows which came none too quickly. "I'm disappointed in you, Rupert," she said as she slid her fingers down his penis and began stroking the glans with her thumb. He was already hard, of course, and after so many nights it wouldn't have taken much to have made him come, but as quickly as she had begun she stopped, sliding her fingers back up to the scrotum, gently--for Fred--massaging his testicles.
And then, when he couldn't decide what was worse, the pain in his rear or the ache in his front, Fred took her hand away and stood up. "That's enough, Faith," she said, as she smoothed out her pleated skirt. "Put your clothes on, Rupert, and get out of here. Come back when you can demonstrate that you've actually learned something."
. . .
It's begun to interfere with his duties. He was training the girls, teaching them how to use a vampire's speed against it, when his unsatisfied sex drive rose up despite himself. He couldn't concentrate, kept on getting distracted by the knowledge of just how female his young charges are, information he is usually able to compartmentalize away as irrelevant to the task at hand.
If he is honest, he knows the only thing keeping him from taking advantage of those girls is the fact that Fred said that he wasn't to have sex, period, until he satisfied her requirements, not just no sex with Fred. And he knows that if he disobeys her, she will find out, and make him sorry for it.
So there is only one thing to be done: he throws himself into his research anew. He will pass her test, because he must pass her test; the fate of the world hinges upon it.
. . .
He tells Fred that he's ready; she calls Faith and he wonders if the Slayer quite gets the concept, because she shows up wearing even less clothing than she did the last time.
He gets the first question wrong, takes off a shoe, but he gets the next two right and Faith pulls off her shirt to reveal she isn't wearing a bra--although that was actually quite clear even when she still had the shirt on. The trial goes on, fluctuating wildly as he's ahead one moment and behind the next, but in the end he answers more questions right than he does wrong and eventually--hours later, and he's all but worn out, but eventually--both Fred and Faith are naked and bent over the dining room table as he paddles their behinds, the blows striking as hard as he can on Faith's and more gently (but not by much) on Fred's. But his strength quickly flags and he flips Fred over, hungrily eyes up her naked body which is his, all his.
"On your knees," he commands her, and she obeys instantly, sinking to her knees. She unfastens his trousers, pulls them and his pants down just enough to take him in her mouth, the warmth enveloping him, inviting him to pleasures he has been denied for far too long. Her tongue skillfully works its magic, until he's mere seconds until ejaculation, and this time it's he who pulls away.
He crosses the room to get a condom, takes his time taking it out of its package, and as he does so he slips gradually back away from the brink. He puts on the condom, grabs Fred at the shoulders and pulls her up to her feet, and then thrusts himself into her with an urgency which is almost violent. He's back at the brink again more quickly than he would have thought possible, as he bites her chin and squeezes her breast and the other hand slides over the still-warm bruises which cover her arse, and then he's over it and he comes.
Fred looks at him as he makes his way to the wastebasket to throw out the used condom; he knows the few moments he spent inside her could hardly have done anything for her. But she says nothing, for he has passed the test she had given him and she had promised to submit.
He's not going to go down on her, not tonight, but he shoots a meaningful look at Faith, who stands, still naked, watching the two of them with an amused look on her face, and Fred nods and soon her head is buried between Faith's legs and Faith's head between Fred's legs. Giles watches the two of them in their 69, a yin and a yang, and it occurs to him that Fred might well reject it as pseudoscientific nonsense for him to make a connection to quantum complementarity, but then again she might not, and either way he really just doesn't care.