"The Unicorn" - 3/4
"The Unicorn"
Part 3/4
Pairing: Giles/Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
A Blast Furnace Production
Original material copyright © 1999 by A. Manley Haight
ahaight@blastfurnace.org
Flames are welcome and are, in fact, encouraged for psychological study.
This story is not in any way intended to infringe on copyrights held by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox Television, or 20th Century Fox. This story may be distributed only with prior permission of the author, and may not be posted to any archive, ftp site, or web page without the written permission of the author. This story is distributed for the individual personal entertainment of persons of legal age for viewing sexually explicit material in areas where such viewing is legal, and is not subject to purchase or sale by anyone.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: To make the premise of this story work, I've altered at least one concrete event in the show, and made some assumptions about Giles' unspoken background. I don't think it's much of a stretch, speaking from some personal experience.
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Nothing obvious happened, but when Giles looked at her again, she saw in his eyes that he had committed himself to this completely. "You can leave the pentagram if you need to, but all of our lovemaking must take place inside it until the ritual is done." Buffy nodded her understanding, then also got up on her knees and shuffled around behind him. "What are you doing?" he asked, more than a little apprehensively.
"I don't have to be turned on for this to work," she said matter-of-factly. "One advantage of being a girl. You, we're going to have to figure out how to turn you on. You gotta help me, but we can start by relaxing you. The traditional gimmick is a massage. Works every time."
"Oh, I -- " The sensation of her hands digging into the taut muscles in his shoulders made him momentarily lose coherent thought. "I see," he said breathlessly. She was actually touching him, actually laying her hands upon his body. He couldn't really take in this fact, confused as he was by the anxiety and guilt -- and now, pleasure -- that flamed inside him. In the next instant he was moving forward, out of her reach, his breath coming hard in his chest. "I don't think I can do this," he panted, starting to get up to leave the pentagram, but Buffy grabbed his arm and jerked him to a stop.
"Giles, we have to," she said. "I know it's hard. Jesus, you think this is easy for me? It's okay. You can trust me." He was on his knees, half-turned back to her with panic in his eyes.
"I don't want this to destroy us," he whispered. "There has to be another way to kill Thaluth. I can find someone else. Buffy, I'm so afraid that if we do this, it will ruin our friendship and our ability to work together. I can't take a risk like that with the Slayer. I can't take a risk like that with you." He moved again, this time back toward her, lunging to take her in his arms and hold her to him tightly. "I'm supposed to be your teacher," he murmured against her soft hair, stroking her back soothingly. She hugged him in return, accepting his fear and his love, then pulled out of his embrace to look at him.
"Giles, if I were the virgin and somebody had to do this with me, I'd want it to be you," she said seriously, quietly. He looked painfully torn, and she touched his face gently. "What you are most of all is my Watcher. I know our friendship can survive this, because we care too much about each other to let anything else happen. It's okay for you to like this," she said, and he gave a strange, half-flinch. "That's what scares you, isn't it? That you might enjoy this. I want you to, Giles. I want to make you feel good. That's what lovemaking is supposed to be -- showing how much you love someone."
She leaned forward slowly, giving him the chance to refuse, but he met her mouth with his own softly, just barely brushing her lips with his eyes half-closed. His lips were warm and sensuous even though the kiss itself was chaste. His expression was difficult to read when she pulled back enough to look at him, but after another heartbeat, he was the one who moved to kiss her, still with that amazing gentleness. His hand came up to twine his fingers in her hair, holding her head carefully, and they kissed slowly, learning the other's rhythm and exploring cautiously.
Both of her hands were in his hair, stroking, caressing him. She rubbed at the muscles in his neck and shoulder, trying to reassure him. The kindness made his throat tighten, and he found himself kissing her with real desire, still yet gentle but filled with affection and warmth. It was when her mouth opened beneath his that he discovered how much he wanted to taste her, and he accepted the invitation eagerly, his tongue finding hers in another caress of love.
Buffy was a little surprised by the sudden sincerity of his passion -- the difference was striking. She tasted fire in his soul and hunger in his body, and when he began nuzzling under her chin, the touch of his mouth on her skin seared her like a white-hot brand. She sensed a certain amount of clinical method in it, but there was an underlying sexual heat that made her stomach clench. Lifting her chin, she tried to keep still to let him kiss softly at her throat, her hands around his neck and shoulders, enjoying his warmth. That was one marked difference between him and Angel. Angel was cold, as all vampires were. No breath or blood moved in his body. Giles was hot, burning her with his touch, and she felt the man that he was for the first time. It was actually a bit of a jolt, really grasping him as male and not just as a force called "Watcher" in her life.
"It's all right for you to touch me," he murmured.
"What?" she asked, a little dazed. He drew back to look at her, and she expected him to be amused by her disorientation, but he just gazed at her seriously.
"You were right before, when you said that my own arousal is crucial to the success of this ritual," he answered, his voice low. "You need to touch me." He hesitated. "Talk to me a little. If...if you really want to make me feel good, I'd like to know it."
"Oh. Um, what do you want me to do?" she asked, her anxiety returning now that they were having to discuss this instead of just acting as they had been a moment ago. Giles shook his head slightly, an ambivalent gesture.
"I don't really have a preference at this point. Explore if you're curious, or ask me a question. Don't worry about whether you're doing it right or not." She glanced up into his amber eyes, wondering how he had read that fear in her so accurately. "Everyone's different. I'll let you know if something's uncomfortable." He swallowed, visibly debating how much he should share with her. "I like being touched, n-not just sexually." She heard the implicit challenge, saw it in his eyes; Find the places that make me tremble and moan and make me want you.
It would have been very easy to make a wry remark, or do something else that made light of what Giles was telling her. The harder thing to do was to take the confession as he gave it -- trustingly, as a private confidence. She didn't smile, and reached up to put her palm against his jaw and neck.
"Can I keep going with the massage?" she asked, and Giles nodded, inwardly relieved that she didn't want to rush this any more than he did.
"Of course." He shifted farther into the center of the invisible pentagram and Buffy got behind him again. He wasn't sure what to expect as he sat down in a half cross‑legged pose, but the iron surety of her strength caught him off guard, and he grunted as her fingers dug slowly into his shoulders.
"Sorry," she said. "That hurt?"
"No," he said truthfully. "I just keep forgetting how strong you are." She was rubbing carefully across his trapezius with both hands, going deep but not hard.
"Yeah, me and Lou Ferrigno should join the Olympic Weightlifting Team," she muttered.
"No, I like it," he said, turning his head slightly. "You have natural talent, which shouldn't surprise me." He paused, feeling her silence heavily. "Does it embarrass you? Having preternatural strength?"
"It's weird sometimes," she admitted, still in that quiet voice. "Being able to stop three‑hundred‑pound football players in their tracks. Being in the big no‑no position of protecting Xander from getting beaten up. He's never going to forgive me for that, either," she said with a sigh. "I remember what it was like before I became a Slayer, before I got the strength. Pretty much everybody else could kick my butt. Now, I could knock you into your next life if I wanted to."
"Don't be so sure of that," he replied wryly. "You may be stronger, but I outweigh you by nearly a hundred pounds. I also fight dirty."
"So do I," she said defensively. She could hear him smiling.
"No, you don't, from what I've seen," he said. "And Watcher‑Slayer conflicts are historically fairly nasty."
"Hey, who's giving who a massage here, huh?" she said, and made him grunt again with a deep probe into the muscles below his shoulder blades.
"It feels wonderful," he said gratefully, leaning forward to let her rub along his spine. A sensuous warmth was pooling in the pit of his stomach, slowly spreading down into his groin. "It's been a very long time since anyone's done anything like this for me."
"There's something deeply twisted about a world where it takes an Arch Demon coming out of the Hellmouth just to get you a backrub," she said.
"At the moment I'm not complaining," he purred. Her hands slid to his sides and flanks, making him draw in a sharp breath of surprise. She froze, and he exhaled quiveringly. "Not complaining at all." She was fascinated by what she had learned of his musculature, and he had asked her to touch him, so she reached around his body to rub her hands across his chest and stomach, learning the lines and curves and feeling him flinch slightly at certain places. He said nothing, and when she laid her palm on his breastbone, she could feel his heart pounding fast and hard. That she could excite her own Watcher so much, when he had admitted he was horribly nervous and shy, was a tremendous thrill.
She was pressed close up against his back, her knees on either side of his hips, and Giles discovered that he was actually holding back from turning to kiss her again. Her hands brushed across his chest, just barely stroking his nipples, and he wondered if she realized how good it felt to him. He'd been afraid he would feel violated by this encounter, and had steeled himself for it, but she was coaxing sounds from him ‑‑ low, brief purrs of pleasure ‑‑ and he had never needed to fake that. He flinched again when her hands returned to the collar of his shirt, and all at once he realized she was unbuttoning it. A flood of wanting and helpless desire made him gasp, but she didn't stop, her movements determined and gentle.
"You want me to?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," he breathed, the answer leaving his throat without conscious thought. She worked her way down, the feather‑light touch at each button sending a ripple of ice‑cold adrenaline up his spine. Then his shirt was undone, and she pulled it away from his shoulders. He freed the tails of the shirt from his trousers to help her, shrugging out of it self‑consciously. She did something with the shirt behind him, and then her hands settled on his bare shoulders.
Buffy felt his body tense sharply under her hands, his breath leaving him through his nose in a soft rush of enormous emotion as his head half‑turned to her over his shoulder. She could feel the question burning inside him; Do I please you? Am I beautiful enough? Her answer to this wouldn't accept words. He had strength in his shoulders, an unassuming, masculine grace that she found heart‑stopping. She ran her hands down his arms, feeling the curved bulk of muscles there, and she felt them move as he shifted against her. She kissed him on the back of his neck, a soft, erotic mouthing that was almost a lick of her tongue, and was rewarded by the low sound of a purr from his throat.
Then she embraced him, slipping her arms under his to mold herself to his back and resting her chin over his shoulder. Her bare arms around him, her hands on his chest and stomach, the sensation of her body pressed against him, was overwhelming. She just held him like that for several long moments, which stretched into minutes, and he felt no desire to end it. To feel arousal was not so difficult. Their bodies helped them with that. For her to cherish him, however, to respect and appreciate him, those were other, more complex things. He felt these in her embrace, and she was trying desperately in that warm silence to tell him how deep it ran in her.
When her hands began to move again, he felt the profound difference in her touch. She wanted to please him, not just for the sake of the ritual, but because she wanted to give him that joy as a personal gift. She stroked down his stomach to the edge of his trousers, gauging the way he shuddered. Back up the gentle line of his ribs, her fingers ran over his nipples lightly, and he couldn't help but gulp a harsh breath at the flash of sweet pleasure that ripped through him. The way she started told him that she hadn't done it on purpose -- hadn't known that he was sensitive there or even suspected it. She did not recoil, but held him firmly, and her solid strength let him push back against her without fear. He'd never been with anyone who could handle him like this so easily, and the wildness in his belly surged hungrily.
"Looks like I found a good spot," she murmured playfully, and he groaned desperately as she toyed with his nipples. He had leaned his head back onto her shoulder, the clean smell of her hair another kind of pleasure that he drank in with a soft purr.
"Care ‑‑ careful," he panted. "T‑told you I'd be quick the first time. Too much to take in after so long..." He was stunned to hear her laugh softly against his neck.
"If I can make you come that easily, I want to see it," she said, and one of her hands slipped down to his groin to cup the shape of his hard cock in his trousers. He shivered and pushed up into her palm, one of his feet finding leverage on the floor.
"God, oh," he gasped, the coiled tension in his loins shifting warningly. It was delicious and hot and he turned his head to try to bite her neck. Her hand slid into his trousers in the same moment, under the soft boxer shorts he wore, and the feel of her cool fingers closing around the length of him was too much to endure.
He reached back to hold her as the climax tore him apart, groaning and panting with ecstasy as he came through her fingers and over her hand in his shorts. She was stroking him, applying pressure in time with his own contractions, bringing the pleasure up to a high plateau that it wouldn't have reached on its own. He felt fantastically out of control, reaching for her throat with his mouth as the orgasm began to fade, and he knocked them both to the floor as he bent over her and sated the urge to bite by bruising her throat with his teeth and growling roughly.
She was giggling even as he pinned her to the green comforter in his feral pleasure, and when she withdrew her hand from his trousers, he grabbed her wrist and descended on her fingers with his tongue, devouring every trace of his semen on her hand. When he looked at her again, she was no longer laughing, uncertain whether he was rational right now or not. He bent his head to her hand again and kissed her knuckles softly. He was calm in another breath, but heavy with satiation and relaxed pleasure.
"That fast enough for you?" he asked in a deep voice. She merely raised an eyebrow.
"Pretty impressive for a guy who says he doesn't get aroused as easily as he used to."
"I didn't want you to be concerned if it turned out to be difficult for me," he replied, sitting up again and helping her as well. "Apparently I don't find you to be a turnoff."
"Flattering, I guess," she said wryly.
"I didn't mean it that way," he said with a sigh, and she giggled again as he lay down on his back for a few moments, recovering his breath.
"I know. So do you feel more relaxed now?" He surprised her by laughing lazily.
"Infinitely," he murmured. "I should clean myself up." He rolled over to stretch toward the chair where he'd left the zippered bag, and took a small hand towel from it. Rising to his knees, he faced away from her to unfasten his trousers and deal with the mess he had made. His modesty amused Buffy no end, and she scooted across the floor to hug him from behind, kissing his bare back.
"Don't I get to watch?" she teased, and he grunted tolerantly.
"Well, you've basically put me in the position of having to take off my shorts anyway," he said with mock gravity, "so you'll get plenty to look at in a moment if you can just contain yourself." He finished with the towel and then shed his pants and boxers, putting them outside the pentagram. "Come take a look now if you want," he said softly, amused by his Slayer's fascination with his body. He turned to face her kneeling, and touched her jaw and shoulders lightly as she studied him. His penis had softened somewhat, and he saw the faint, ghostlike smile on her lips as she took it in her hand. She brushed her fingerpads across one of his nipples again, watching his stomach contract in a flinch at the sensitive caress. "Do you know, you're very beautiful," he murmured.
"You don't think I'm too skinny?"
"Let's find out," he said, and dragged her shirt up over her head before she could say anything. She yelped indignantly but was giggling again when he moved in closer and reached around her back to unfasten her bra. "Whoever invented these bloody things should have been shot," he groused. She helped him and together they got it off and it, too, was flung beyond the perimeter of the pentagram space.
He couldn't help but reach out and touch her collarbone, drawn by the sharp strength that was visible in her musculature. He wondered if it wasn't her perceived skinniness that bothered her as much as this taut physique. It was considered unfeminine by a large segment of society, but the sight of it enthralled him. "No," he said. "Not too skinny, by any means. You're magnificent, and don't argue with me. I'm your Watcher and I know these things better than you do." She had opened her mouth to object, but now closed it as he made her accept his words and the gentle affection as he kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Okay," she said, her voice unsteady because he had started to kiss down the side of her throat, then along her shoulder. Virgin or not, he definitely knew what he was doing, and she lifted her head to let him kiss under her jaw. "You gonna bite me again?"
"Do you want me to?" he asked, his breath warm across her neck.
"Yeah...but not so hard this time," she whispered. His mouth brushed over an unmarked place on the side of her neck, and the bite that he offered was gentle and sensuous, just barely letting her feel his teeth. It felt less like a bite and more like he was trying to completely take in the taste and smell of her skin. "Nice," she said softly. The bite became more kisses, and she shivered. "I thought...I thought you were the one we were supposed to be turning on," Buffy said in a strained voice, unwilling and unable to pull away from the glorious warmth and pleasure of his attentions.
"That's what I'm doing," he mumbled against her shoulder. He pulled her up close to him and laid her down on her back, covering her with his body to continue kissing and nipping down her neck to one of her breasts. She felt the thick weight of his penis against her thigh and realized that he was slowly becoming erect again from pleasuring her. The delicate wetness of his tongue on her nipple made her arch against him with a cry of surprise, and she grabbed at his shoulders as he hummed with amusement. He sat back just enough to use both hands on her jeans, unbuttoning them and then dragging them off along with her panties. She heard him make a soft sound, possibly words, but his amazement was clear in his tone. She shivered at the light stroke of his palm down her muscled thigh, and then he took one of her wrists to guide her hand down between his legs to feel his hardening cock. "See what you do to me?" he murmured. She held him firmly, curious and fascinated by the way his expression changed when she caressed him. The erection in her hand stiffened a little more, its comfortable length seeming to make a silent demand of her that she didn't resent. "I'm ready," he said. "Is it all right?" She swallowed hard.
"Yeah," she said. "Um, condom..." Giles nodded and backed away from her.
"I know," he said. It was one of the other things he had in the zippered bag, and she rolled onto her side to watch with interest as he took out a dark blue condom package and opened it. She wondered if he'd ever even used one before, being a virgin, but he seemed to be doing it right so she didn't say anything.
"So?" she asked when he was done and looked up at her. She was surprised to see him gesture for her to come to him and he laid down on his back.
"I want you on top," he said, his voice soft and strained. "Easier for you to control and harder for me to hurt you." She complied carefully, straddling him and looking down at his penis, which was amusingly sheathed in a pale blue condom. She lifted her gaze to his eyes and they were both silent for a long moment. There was a strange ache deep in her loins, a physical wanting that seemed to permeate her very bones.
"Okay?" she asked. He nodded, repressing another shiver, and reached down between them to hold his penis. "Let me do that." Her hand was guiding him, and he rested his palms on her thighs, not sure what else to do as she moved into the right position to accept him.
He could not have imagined the sensation; a mixture of tightness and heat that was overwhelmed by a feeling of contentment and completion. His back arched and he tried desperately not to thrust into her as his eyes closed and he groaned from the bottom of his soul. She was going so slowly, gradually taking him in and making soft, tense sounds of pleasure and pain. When he could open his eyes again, she was bowed over him, her face a tableau of rapture. He felt her contract around him briefly, then relax again, and she sank down to take him completely, finally sitting astride him.
"All right?" he asked quietly, rubbing his hands gently up her arms in a comforting gesture. She nodded slightly, not looking at him, but he saw the smile that flashed across her face and was gone again the next breath. He felt peaceful, in no hurry to do anything or go anywhere, just lying there buried inside her and thinking about how much he loved her. "I think this is enough," he said, almost inaudibly because he was afraid of breaking some other kind of spell around them. "Let me finish the incantation."
"Tonight I am pure, innocent in mind and body.
My hand is raised and I see the Lightning Path.
I am redemption. I am God.
Demons of the Seventh Circle cannot touch me.
Grant me courage, for I must walk untouched
Through chaos."
CONTINUED IN PART 4
Part 3/4
Pairing: Giles/Buffy
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
A Blast Furnace Production
Original material copyright © 1999 by A. Manley Haight
ahaight@blastfurnace.org
Flames are welcome and are, in fact, encouraged for psychological study.
This story is not in any way intended to infringe on copyrights held by Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Fox Television, or 20th Century Fox. This story may be distributed only with prior permission of the author, and may not be posted to any archive, ftp site, or web page without the written permission of the author. This story is distributed for the individual personal entertainment of persons of legal age for viewing sexually explicit material in areas where such viewing is legal, and is not subject to purchase or sale by anyone.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: To make the premise of this story work, I've altered at least one concrete event in the show, and made some assumptions about Giles' unspoken background. I don't think it's much of a stretch, speaking from some personal experience.
‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑‑
Nothing obvious happened, but when Giles looked at her again, she saw in his eyes that he had committed himself to this completely. "You can leave the pentagram if you need to, but all of our lovemaking must take place inside it until the ritual is done." Buffy nodded her understanding, then also got up on her knees and shuffled around behind him. "What are you doing?" he asked, more than a little apprehensively.
"I don't have to be turned on for this to work," she said matter-of-factly. "One advantage of being a girl. You, we're going to have to figure out how to turn you on. You gotta help me, but we can start by relaxing you. The traditional gimmick is a massage. Works every time."
"Oh, I -- " The sensation of her hands digging into the taut muscles in his shoulders made him momentarily lose coherent thought. "I see," he said breathlessly. She was actually touching him, actually laying her hands upon his body. He couldn't really take in this fact, confused as he was by the anxiety and guilt -- and now, pleasure -- that flamed inside him. In the next instant he was moving forward, out of her reach, his breath coming hard in his chest. "I don't think I can do this," he panted, starting to get up to leave the pentagram, but Buffy grabbed his arm and jerked him to a stop.
"Giles, we have to," she said. "I know it's hard. Jesus, you think this is easy for me? It's okay. You can trust me." He was on his knees, half-turned back to her with panic in his eyes.
"I don't want this to destroy us," he whispered. "There has to be another way to kill Thaluth. I can find someone else. Buffy, I'm so afraid that if we do this, it will ruin our friendship and our ability to work together. I can't take a risk like that with the Slayer. I can't take a risk like that with you." He moved again, this time back toward her, lunging to take her in his arms and hold her to him tightly. "I'm supposed to be your teacher," he murmured against her soft hair, stroking her back soothingly. She hugged him in return, accepting his fear and his love, then pulled out of his embrace to look at him.
"Giles, if I were the virgin and somebody had to do this with me, I'd want it to be you," she said seriously, quietly. He looked painfully torn, and she touched his face gently. "What you are most of all is my Watcher. I know our friendship can survive this, because we care too much about each other to let anything else happen. It's okay for you to like this," she said, and he gave a strange, half-flinch. "That's what scares you, isn't it? That you might enjoy this. I want you to, Giles. I want to make you feel good. That's what lovemaking is supposed to be -- showing how much you love someone."
She leaned forward slowly, giving him the chance to refuse, but he met her mouth with his own softly, just barely brushing her lips with his eyes half-closed. His lips were warm and sensuous even though the kiss itself was chaste. His expression was difficult to read when she pulled back enough to look at him, but after another heartbeat, he was the one who moved to kiss her, still with that amazing gentleness. His hand came up to twine his fingers in her hair, holding her head carefully, and they kissed slowly, learning the other's rhythm and exploring cautiously.
Both of her hands were in his hair, stroking, caressing him. She rubbed at the muscles in his neck and shoulder, trying to reassure him. The kindness made his throat tighten, and he found himself kissing her with real desire, still yet gentle but filled with affection and warmth. It was when her mouth opened beneath his that he discovered how much he wanted to taste her, and he accepted the invitation eagerly, his tongue finding hers in another caress of love.
Buffy was a little surprised by the sudden sincerity of his passion -- the difference was striking. She tasted fire in his soul and hunger in his body, and when he began nuzzling under her chin, the touch of his mouth on her skin seared her like a white-hot brand. She sensed a certain amount of clinical method in it, but there was an underlying sexual heat that made her stomach clench. Lifting her chin, she tried to keep still to let him kiss softly at her throat, her hands around his neck and shoulders, enjoying his warmth. That was one marked difference between him and Angel. Angel was cold, as all vampires were. No breath or blood moved in his body. Giles was hot, burning her with his touch, and she felt the man that he was for the first time. It was actually a bit of a jolt, really grasping him as male and not just as a force called "Watcher" in her life.
"It's all right for you to touch me," he murmured.
"What?" she asked, a little dazed. He drew back to look at her, and she expected him to be amused by her disorientation, but he just gazed at her seriously.
"You were right before, when you said that my own arousal is crucial to the success of this ritual," he answered, his voice low. "You need to touch me." He hesitated. "Talk to me a little. If...if you really want to make me feel good, I'd like to know it."
"Oh. Um, what do you want me to do?" she asked, her anxiety returning now that they were having to discuss this instead of just acting as they had been a moment ago. Giles shook his head slightly, an ambivalent gesture.
"I don't really have a preference at this point. Explore if you're curious, or ask me a question. Don't worry about whether you're doing it right or not." She glanced up into his amber eyes, wondering how he had read that fear in her so accurately. "Everyone's different. I'll let you know if something's uncomfortable." He swallowed, visibly debating how much he should share with her. "I like being touched, n-not just sexually." She heard the implicit challenge, saw it in his eyes; Find the places that make me tremble and moan and make me want you.
It would have been very easy to make a wry remark, or do something else that made light of what Giles was telling her. The harder thing to do was to take the confession as he gave it -- trustingly, as a private confidence. She didn't smile, and reached up to put her palm against his jaw and neck.
"Can I keep going with the massage?" she asked, and Giles nodded, inwardly relieved that she didn't want to rush this any more than he did.
"Of course." He shifted farther into the center of the invisible pentagram and Buffy got behind him again. He wasn't sure what to expect as he sat down in a half cross‑legged pose, but the iron surety of her strength caught him off guard, and he grunted as her fingers dug slowly into his shoulders.
"Sorry," she said. "That hurt?"
"No," he said truthfully. "I just keep forgetting how strong you are." She was rubbing carefully across his trapezius with both hands, going deep but not hard.
"Yeah, me and Lou Ferrigno should join the Olympic Weightlifting Team," she muttered.
"No, I like it," he said, turning his head slightly. "You have natural talent, which shouldn't surprise me." He paused, feeling her silence heavily. "Does it embarrass you? Having preternatural strength?"
"It's weird sometimes," she admitted, still in that quiet voice. "Being able to stop three‑hundred‑pound football players in their tracks. Being in the big no‑no position of protecting Xander from getting beaten up. He's never going to forgive me for that, either," she said with a sigh. "I remember what it was like before I became a Slayer, before I got the strength. Pretty much everybody else could kick my butt. Now, I could knock you into your next life if I wanted to."
"Don't be so sure of that," he replied wryly. "You may be stronger, but I outweigh you by nearly a hundred pounds. I also fight dirty."
"So do I," she said defensively. She could hear him smiling.
"No, you don't, from what I've seen," he said. "And Watcher‑Slayer conflicts are historically fairly nasty."
"Hey, who's giving who a massage here, huh?" she said, and made him grunt again with a deep probe into the muscles below his shoulder blades.
"It feels wonderful," he said gratefully, leaning forward to let her rub along his spine. A sensuous warmth was pooling in the pit of his stomach, slowly spreading down into his groin. "It's been a very long time since anyone's done anything like this for me."
"There's something deeply twisted about a world where it takes an Arch Demon coming out of the Hellmouth just to get you a backrub," she said.
"At the moment I'm not complaining," he purred. Her hands slid to his sides and flanks, making him draw in a sharp breath of surprise. She froze, and he exhaled quiveringly. "Not complaining at all." She was fascinated by what she had learned of his musculature, and he had asked her to touch him, so she reached around his body to rub her hands across his chest and stomach, learning the lines and curves and feeling him flinch slightly at certain places. He said nothing, and when she laid her palm on his breastbone, she could feel his heart pounding fast and hard. That she could excite her own Watcher so much, when he had admitted he was horribly nervous and shy, was a tremendous thrill.
She was pressed close up against his back, her knees on either side of his hips, and Giles discovered that he was actually holding back from turning to kiss her again. Her hands brushed across his chest, just barely stroking his nipples, and he wondered if she realized how good it felt to him. He'd been afraid he would feel violated by this encounter, and had steeled himself for it, but she was coaxing sounds from him ‑‑ low, brief purrs of pleasure ‑‑ and he had never needed to fake that. He flinched again when her hands returned to the collar of his shirt, and all at once he realized she was unbuttoning it. A flood of wanting and helpless desire made him gasp, but she didn't stop, her movements determined and gentle.
"You want me to?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," he breathed, the answer leaving his throat without conscious thought. She worked her way down, the feather‑light touch at each button sending a ripple of ice‑cold adrenaline up his spine. Then his shirt was undone, and she pulled it away from his shoulders. He freed the tails of the shirt from his trousers to help her, shrugging out of it self‑consciously. She did something with the shirt behind him, and then her hands settled on his bare shoulders.
Buffy felt his body tense sharply under her hands, his breath leaving him through his nose in a soft rush of enormous emotion as his head half‑turned to her over his shoulder. She could feel the question burning inside him; Do I please you? Am I beautiful enough? Her answer to this wouldn't accept words. He had strength in his shoulders, an unassuming, masculine grace that she found heart‑stopping. She ran her hands down his arms, feeling the curved bulk of muscles there, and she felt them move as he shifted against her. She kissed him on the back of his neck, a soft, erotic mouthing that was almost a lick of her tongue, and was rewarded by the low sound of a purr from his throat.
Then she embraced him, slipping her arms under his to mold herself to his back and resting her chin over his shoulder. Her bare arms around him, her hands on his chest and stomach, the sensation of her body pressed against him, was overwhelming. She just held him like that for several long moments, which stretched into minutes, and he felt no desire to end it. To feel arousal was not so difficult. Their bodies helped them with that. For her to cherish him, however, to respect and appreciate him, those were other, more complex things. He felt these in her embrace, and she was trying desperately in that warm silence to tell him how deep it ran in her.
When her hands began to move again, he felt the profound difference in her touch. She wanted to please him, not just for the sake of the ritual, but because she wanted to give him that joy as a personal gift. She stroked down his stomach to the edge of his trousers, gauging the way he shuddered. Back up the gentle line of his ribs, her fingers ran over his nipples lightly, and he couldn't help but gulp a harsh breath at the flash of sweet pleasure that ripped through him. The way she started told him that she hadn't done it on purpose -- hadn't known that he was sensitive there or even suspected it. She did not recoil, but held him firmly, and her solid strength let him push back against her without fear. He'd never been with anyone who could handle him like this so easily, and the wildness in his belly surged hungrily.
"Looks like I found a good spot," she murmured playfully, and he groaned desperately as she toyed with his nipples. He had leaned his head back onto her shoulder, the clean smell of her hair another kind of pleasure that he drank in with a soft purr.
"Care ‑‑ careful," he panted. "T‑told you I'd be quick the first time. Too much to take in after so long..." He was stunned to hear her laugh softly against his neck.
"If I can make you come that easily, I want to see it," she said, and one of her hands slipped down to his groin to cup the shape of his hard cock in his trousers. He shivered and pushed up into her palm, one of his feet finding leverage on the floor.
"God, oh," he gasped, the coiled tension in his loins shifting warningly. It was delicious and hot and he turned his head to try to bite her neck. Her hand slid into his trousers in the same moment, under the soft boxer shorts he wore, and the feel of her cool fingers closing around the length of him was too much to endure.
He reached back to hold her as the climax tore him apart, groaning and panting with ecstasy as he came through her fingers and over her hand in his shorts. She was stroking him, applying pressure in time with his own contractions, bringing the pleasure up to a high plateau that it wouldn't have reached on its own. He felt fantastically out of control, reaching for her throat with his mouth as the orgasm began to fade, and he knocked them both to the floor as he bent over her and sated the urge to bite by bruising her throat with his teeth and growling roughly.
She was giggling even as he pinned her to the green comforter in his feral pleasure, and when she withdrew her hand from his trousers, he grabbed her wrist and descended on her fingers with his tongue, devouring every trace of his semen on her hand. When he looked at her again, she was no longer laughing, uncertain whether he was rational right now or not. He bent his head to her hand again and kissed her knuckles softly. He was calm in another breath, but heavy with satiation and relaxed pleasure.
"That fast enough for you?" he asked in a deep voice. She merely raised an eyebrow.
"Pretty impressive for a guy who says he doesn't get aroused as easily as he used to."
"I didn't want you to be concerned if it turned out to be difficult for me," he replied, sitting up again and helping her as well. "Apparently I don't find you to be a turnoff."
"Flattering, I guess," she said wryly.
"I didn't mean it that way," he said with a sigh, and she giggled again as he lay down on his back for a few moments, recovering his breath.
"I know. So do you feel more relaxed now?" He surprised her by laughing lazily.
"Infinitely," he murmured. "I should clean myself up." He rolled over to stretch toward the chair where he'd left the zippered bag, and took a small hand towel from it. Rising to his knees, he faced away from her to unfasten his trousers and deal with the mess he had made. His modesty amused Buffy no end, and she scooted across the floor to hug him from behind, kissing his bare back.
"Don't I get to watch?" she teased, and he grunted tolerantly.
"Well, you've basically put me in the position of having to take off my shorts anyway," he said with mock gravity, "so you'll get plenty to look at in a moment if you can just contain yourself." He finished with the towel and then shed his pants and boxers, putting them outside the pentagram. "Come take a look now if you want," he said softly, amused by his Slayer's fascination with his body. He turned to face her kneeling, and touched her jaw and shoulders lightly as she studied him. His penis had softened somewhat, and he saw the faint, ghostlike smile on her lips as she took it in her hand. She brushed her fingerpads across one of his nipples again, watching his stomach contract in a flinch at the sensitive caress. "Do you know, you're very beautiful," he murmured.
"You don't think I'm too skinny?"
"Let's find out," he said, and dragged her shirt up over her head before she could say anything. She yelped indignantly but was giggling again when he moved in closer and reached around her back to unfasten her bra. "Whoever invented these bloody things should have been shot," he groused. She helped him and together they got it off and it, too, was flung beyond the perimeter of the pentagram space.
He couldn't help but reach out and touch her collarbone, drawn by the sharp strength that was visible in her musculature. He wondered if it wasn't her perceived skinniness that bothered her as much as this taut physique. It was considered unfeminine by a large segment of society, but the sight of it enthralled him. "No," he said. "Not too skinny, by any means. You're magnificent, and don't argue with me. I'm your Watcher and I know these things better than you do." She had opened her mouth to object, but now closed it as he made her accept his words and the gentle affection as he kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Okay," she said, her voice unsteady because he had started to kiss down the side of her throat, then along her shoulder. Virgin or not, he definitely knew what he was doing, and she lifted her head to let him kiss under her jaw. "You gonna bite me again?"
"Do you want me to?" he asked, his breath warm across her neck.
"Yeah...but not so hard this time," she whispered. His mouth brushed over an unmarked place on the side of her neck, and the bite that he offered was gentle and sensuous, just barely letting her feel his teeth. It felt less like a bite and more like he was trying to completely take in the taste and smell of her skin. "Nice," she said softly. The bite became more kisses, and she shivered. "I thought...I thought you were the one we were supposed to be turning on," Buffy said in a strained voice, unwilling and unable to pull away from the glorious warmth and pleasure of his attentions.
"That's what I'm doing," he mumbled against her shoulder. He pulled her up close to him and laid her down on her back, covering her with his body to continue kissing and nipping down her neck to one of her breasts. She felt the thick weight of his penis against her thigh and realized that he was slowly becoming erect again from pleasuring her. The delicate wetness of his tongue on her nipple made her arch against him with a cry of surprise, and she grabbed at his shoulders as he hummed with amusement. He sat back just enough to use both hands on her jeans, unbuttoning them and then dragging them off along with her panties. She heard him make a soft sound, possibly words, but his amazement was clear in his tone. She shivered at the light stroke of his palm down her muscled thigh, and then he took one of her wrists to guide her hand down between his legs to feel his hardening cock. "See what you do to me?" he murmured. She held him firmly, curious and fascinated by the way his expression changed when she caressed him. The erection in her hand stiffened a little more, its comfortable length seeming to make a silent demand of her that she didn't resent. "I'm ready," he said. "Is it all right?" She swallowed hard.
"Yeah," she said. "Um, condom..." Giles nodded and backed away from her.
"I know," he said. It was one of the other things he had in the zippered bag, and she rolled onto her side to watch with interest as he took out a dark blue condom package and opened it. She wondered if he'd ever even used one before, being a virgin, but he seemed to be doing it right so she didn't say anything.
"So?" she asked when he was done and looked up at her. She was surprised to see him gesture for her to come to him and he laid down on his back.
"I want you on top," he said, his voice soft and strained. "Easier for you to control and harder for me to hurt you." She complied carefully, straddling him and looking down at his penis, which was amusingly sheathed in a pale blue condom. She lifted her gaze to his eyes and they were both silent for a long moment. There was a strange ache deep in her loins, a physical wanting that seemed to permeate her very bones.
"Okay?" she asked. He nodded, repressing another shiver, and reached down between them to hold his penis. "Let me do that." Her hand was guiding him, and he rested his palms on her thighs, not sure what else to do as she moved into the right position to accept him.
He could not have imagined the sensation; a mixture of tightness and heat that was overwhelmed by a feeling of contentment and completion. His back arched and he tried desperately not to thrust into her as his eyes closed and he groaned from the bottom of his soul. She was going so slowly, gradually taking him in and making soft, tense sounds of pleasure and pain. When he could open his eyes again, she was bowed over him, her face a tableau of rapture. He felt her contract around him briefly, then relax again, and she sank down to take him completely, finally sitting astride him.
"All right?" he asked quietly, rubbing his hands gently up her arms in a comforting gesture. She nodded slightly, not looking at him, but he saw the smile that flashed across her face and was gone again the next breath. He felt peaceful, in no hurry to do anything or go anywhere, just lying there buried inside her and thinking about how much he loved her. "I think this is enough," he said, almost inaudibly because he was afraid of breaking some other kind of spell around them. "Let me finish the incantation."
"Tonight I am pure, innocent in mind and body.
My hand is raised and I see the Lightning Path.
I am redemption. I am God.
Demons of the Seventh Circle cannot touch me.
Grant me courage, for I must walk untouched
Through chaos."
CONTINUED IN PART 4