The Apocalypse Stone, Buffy/Giles, part 8
anonymous
September 3 2011, 05:42:48 UTC
He reached down and brushed his thumb against that spot, the one that felt so good. Buffy whimpered and he touched her again. She'd nearly gone over the edge last time he'd touched her and now this time, with his body inside hers she did go over, before she could think about it or try to hold herself back, she was shuddering and biting her lip, trying to keep quiet except she couldn't. Giles didn't take his fingers away, didn't relent, and she stayed there for long seconds of pleasure. And then it was over and he was kissing her gently and brushing the hair away from her face.
She'd done it in front of someone else. Instead of laughing at her or being horrified by her, Giles looked happy. Pleased. His face was red and there was sweat on his forehead. She was sweaty now too, but he didn't seem to mind. He lay down all the way on top of her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist again. This was good. The right amount of closeness, so he could kiss her or press his face against her neck and moan as he moved. She was still having aftershocks, or something, little reminders that she'd just had an orgasm and might maybe have another one or something like that.
He was getting closer now, maybe. He was moving faster and more urgently. Then he stopped and pulled her close for a second and said her name, but then he was sitting up. He withdrew from her completely, then thrust himself against her body. And then he was climaxing, Giles, her Watcher, having an orgasm and saying her name in a voice that sounded as if he were wrecked. Buffy felt something hot and wet splash onto her. He was looking down at himself now, watching himself as he came onto her. Then he slumped over and breathed once, twice. He sat back and there was the white cloth again, in his hand, on which was her blood and his semen mingled. He put it into the brass bowl and held a lit match over it. He chanted again in that strange and ugly language and the cloth burst into flame. Buffy lay there on the blanket, Giles kneeling between her legs even yet, and watched it burn. Orange flames, flickering, a strange acrid scent, and dark smoke that vanished into somewhere else, some time else.
When the flames died she saw that the candles had gone out. Giles untangled himself from her and they both crawled to the empty point to see if it had worked.
The apocalypse stone was dark. Buffy blew out a long breath. Giles slumped over it, his forehead almost touching the stone. They had done it.
Buffy reached out to him. He was shaking a little bit and so was she, but it eased as they held each other. They shared a slow kiss, gentle and undemanding. Then Giles stroked her hair and released her. He stood up and went over to the couch. He came back with two bathrobes. He handed one down to her. It was his, and way too large for her. Buffy wrapped the giant robe around herself and shivered a little. Nice and plush, warm. Giles put the other one on and sat down on the blanket next to her again. He wiped his face against the sleeve. On impulse Buffy scooted over and leaned against him.
Giles put his arm around her and squeezed. "Oh, Buffy. I was so afraid. But your bravery carried me through."
She said nothing, just stayed leaned up against his solid shoulder. He'd been afraid? He hadn't seemed that way. He'd been covering it up for her sake, just like she'd been covering her fear for him.
He sighed and let go of her. "We won't be-- that is, we can't."
Buffy sat up. "I know. It's okay. I just wanted to say, just-- I'm glad you're my Watcher."
"As am I." Said softly, but Buffy heard the emotion in his voice. He kissed her one last time, and then they were apart. Time to repress.
She'd done it in front of someone else. Instead of laughing at her or being horrified by her, Giles looked happy. Pleased. His face was red and there was sweat on his forehead. She was sweaty now too, but he didn't seem to mind. He lay down all the way on top of her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist again. This was good. The right amount of closeness, so he could kiss her or press his face against her neck and moan as he moved. She was still having aftershocks, or something, little reminders that she'd just had an orgasm and might maybe have another one or something like that.
He was getting closer now, maybe. He was moving faster and more urgently. Then he stopped and pulled her close for a second and said her name, but then he was sitting up. He withdrew from her completely, then thrust himself against her body. And then he was climaxing, Giles, her Watcher, having an orgasm and saying her name in a voice that sounded as if he were wrecked. Buffy felt something hot and wet splash onto her. He was looking down at himself now, watching himself as he came onto her. Then he slumped over and breathed once, twice. He sat back and there was the white cloth again, in his hand, on which was her blood and his semen mingled. He put it into the brass bowl and held a lit match over it. He chanted again in that strange and ugly language and the cloth burst into flame. Buffy lay there on the blanket, Giles kneeling between her legs even yet, and watched it burn. Orange flames, flickering, a strange acrid scent, and dark smoke that vanished into somewhere else, some time else.
When the flames died she saw that the candles had gone out. Giles untangled himself from her and they both crawled to the empty point to see if it had worked.
The apocalypse stone was dark. Buffy blew out a long breath. Giles slumped over it, his forehead almost touching the stone. They had done it.
Buffy reached out to him. He was shaking a little bit and so was she, but it eased as they held each other. They shared a slow kiss, gentle and undemanding. Then Giles stroked her hair and released her. He stood up and went over to the couch. He came back with two bathrobes. He handed one down to her. It was his, and way too large for her. Buffy wrapped the giant robe around herself and shivered a little. Nice and plush, warm. Giles put the other one on and sat down on the blanket next to her again. He wiped his face against the sleeve. On impulse Buffy scooted over and leaned against him.
Giles put his arm around her and squeezed. "Oh, Buffy. I was so afraid. But your bravery carried me through."
She said nothing, just stayed leaned up against his solid shoulder. He'd been afraid? He hadn't seemed that way. He'd been covering it up for her sake, just like she'd been covering her fear for him.
He sighed and let go of her. "We won't be-- that is, we can't."
Buffy sat up. "I know. It's okay. I just wanted to say, just-- I'm glad you're my Watcher."
"As am I." Said softly, but Buffy heard the emotion in his voice. He kissed her one last time, and then they were apart. Time to repress.
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