drabbleset: "Old and Kinda Gross (Giles-sex is not)"
World's slowest writer, y/n?
A year ago this past July y'all requested drabbles in which Giles had sex with various people. These are those drabbles... yep. And you thought I forgot! There are no comics spoilers here. Pls not to be giving me any.
A drabble is 100 words.
[Giles/Buffy. High school. PG-13. Table (we'll talk about it later). For hermionesviolin]
Cross Purposes
"You can't be thinking of patrolling alone. You're still ill."
"I'm feeling much better."
"Just tonight. For my peace of mind."
"Giles... let's table this discussion? It's hours till sunset." She leans up into him, big-eyed, hopeful.
"You're ill!"
"I'm not contagious anymore..."
"I won't be distracted."
"Really? It's just, when you're all... protective... dominating... I kind of..." Buffy presses closer, lets one hand wander to Giles' belt.
He puts his hand over hers and removes it firmly.
"You're aroused when I give you orders?"
"Maaaaybe."
He nips at her ear and whispers, "It arouses me when you obey them."
[Giles/Faith/Willow. S3. NC-17. Library (lifetime in a moment). For thelastgoodname]
Life, the Universe, and Other Injustices
Faith, slutty and powerful, has taken everything, Buffy's friendship and Xander's virginity, but she can't have Giles.
Willow can hear Giles grunting and the scratch of fingernails on the circulation desk, smell the dirt and sweat of unwashed Faith, the bitter must and tea of Giles, see -- no -- where Faith's sliding around Giles... It's not right that Faith's fucking Giles helpless, not fair that Willow's choking back a moan, that Faith has broken Giles but all Willow's malfunctioning brain wants is to become Giles, pinned to the circulation desk, pressing Faith into her, cupping Faith's ass in ecstasy.
[Giles/Buffy. R. Raspberry (on anyone else this vest would be hideous). For queenzulu]
See Me
Her vest, Buffy tells him, is raspberry-colored -- purplish-pink and tight enough to reveal the perfection of her braless breasts. Two nipples, themselves the size of berries, demand to be plucked, and he gathers two pinches of fabric and flesh, twists hard enough for her to gasp. He smiles. Buffy laughs and gasps and smiles too, grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head so he's waist-up naked. He begs himself not to flinch. He's spent hours admiring the precious scarred surface of Buffy's bared skin, but he wants to hide himself from the unembarrassed desire of Buffy's gaze.
[Giles/Buffy. PG. Set sometime early. Twilight (but the dawning of our love). For glimmergirl]
Twilit
Giles blots as gently as he can, but Buffy still winces at his efforts to clean her newest bruise. He sighs and drops the flannel, instead pressing a thumb to the palest ring of blue. She winces again, and, more gently, he touches the center of her bruise, purpling like a sunset, then replaces his thumb with a kiss. Softly as his lips curve, he can't calm Buffy's sudden sob, and he closes his eyes and lets his breath be cooling balm. She's still crying, still shaken by her injury, and he's no tools left to comfort her, only love.
[Giles/Buffy/Faith. PG-13. S3 (There are no) secrets. For cadence_k]
The Good Kind of Hurt
Buffy, sweaty and flushed from training, collapses on the library floor. "I have to tell you something."
"Anything."
"I've been sleeping with Faith." She gulps for air -- terrified, like it's real now that Giles knows.
Very slowly, he whispers, "So have I."
She wants to throw up, not because Faith's been cheating (how can you cheat on a nothing of a non-relationship?), but because Giles is hers and the idea that someone else has claimed him, that he's watched (Watched) Faith in the intangible moment of orgasm makes her feel like something precious has been stolen.
"Fuck. You. Both."
[Giles/Remus Lupin. Harry Potter crossover. NC-17. Records (and other ways to remember). For bluerosefairy]
Greatly Exaggerated
Giles found a very grudging Wizard willing to rent him an owl, but he cannot find the address, which he knows is hiding among scattered papers from a period in his life he'd rather forget (drugged eyes rolling in a skull that no longer houses a mind) and absolutely can't (thin hips nudging his cock into awareness in ryhthm with a poorly played guitar).
He can remember Remus's desperate kisses, each of which felt like farewell, his obsessively careful blowjobs, the whining growl of orgasm, but he cannot find his address, as if Remus wrote himself out of Giles's records.
[Giles/Hermione Granger. Harry Potter crossover. R. This job we do (and other dead-ends). For callmesandy]
Alone at Last
Stalking vampires through back alleys is a hobby -- an obsession -- foreplay -- so dangerous that it no longer contains even a glimmer of joy for Rupert, of hope for Hermione. It has become a shared job, a distraction, and a reminder -- and at the moment when a vampire turns to dust, it becomes a shared climax more exhilarating than any sex could provide. They have never needed Harry, nor Buffy, nor the Council, nor the Ministry, no weapons, no textbooks. In the dark it is brilliantly clear -- they have only ever needed themselves for protection.
[Giles/Willow/Xander. Between S2+3. PG. We sing ourselves to sleep now. For flamingnik]
Unlullable
Willow leans away from the ghost of Buffy's laughter into the crook of Giles' arm, where there's safety in fatigue and shuddering laughter. They don't cry, but if they did, they would sob each other to sleep. Xander's heartbeat, thudding through the erection he can't hide, would be their metronome and they would know each other, thud, thud, thud, each kiss a reminder that Buffy's missing, that they are each other's responsibility now. Xander, stretched across Giles' lap, tries to untangle Willow's hair, but it's as hopeless as the three of them, resting on Giles' couch, pretending to be whole.
[Giles/Willow. S7. R. Magic (only, always). For gvambat]
The Only Way
Giles' fingers trace a column down Willow's back, and she can feel her body uncurl as Giles skims heat from her skin and replaces it in patterns, hearts and stars, rune magic written behind her knees and around her thighs. She thinks her back will break when Giles touches it again, Giles, who once stole magic to feed her hunger and her pain, who once would have died because of the flowing forces that he rubs, smears, adjusts until her body's as ready as her brain is for the blue heat of redemption that twines from his heart into hers.
[Giles/Willow/Tara. In a ~handwavy~ S7. NC-17. Momentum (all that keeps us going some days). For scribbling_elf]
Forget Regret
Willow plummets from delight to regret while Giles' fingers are still inside her, while Tara's still too satiated to stutter. Willow rolls away from Giles into Tara's softness, then back to Giles and his half-hard dick. When he's inside them, fingers or cock, he's frightening and intense, engorged with the sheer abundance of his years, but now his eyes are lazy, patient. Tara smirks her pleasure. Willow scrunches down Giles' bed and takes his erection into her mouth before she can remember she doesn't deserve this moment. She closes her eyes, licks and gulps without thinking, following her lovers home.
[Giles/female. NC-17. Post-S7. Old and kinda gross (Giles sex is not). For noelia_g]
One More Mistake
With his eyes open, Giles can't fuck her properly. The older he becomes the harder it is to erase personality and forget fear, to feel only softness, heat, and friction, to hear nothing in a woman's whimpers or moans but her wanting, at that moment, to be fucked. In its last years the Watchers' Council claimed, adapting feminist logic, that there was nothing sexual about the vampire's bite -- even, ridiculously, that vampires had no sexual desires. It's false and dangerous and can't stop Giles from feeling, this deep in even a very willing woman's cunt, that he's no innocent.
A year ago this past July y'all requested drabbles in which Giles had sex with various people. These are those drabbles... yep. And you thought I forgot! There are no comics spoilers here. Pls not to be giving me any.
A drabble is 100 words.
[Giles/Buffy. High school. PG-13. Table (we'll talk about it later). For hermionesviolin]
Cross Purposes
"You can't be thinking of patrolling alone. You're still ill."
"I'm feeling much better."
"Just tonight. For my peace of mind."
"Giles... let's table this discussion? It's hours till sunset." She leans up into him, big-eyed, hopeful.
"You're ill!"
"I'm not contagious anymore..."
"I won't be distracted."
"Really? It's just, when you're all... protective... dominating... I kind of..." Buffy presses closer, lets one hand wander to Giles' belt.
He puts his hand over hers and removes it firmly.
"You're aroused when I give you orders?"
"Maaaaybe."
He nips at her ear and whispers, "It arouses me when you obey them."
[Giles/Faith/Willow. S3. NC-17. Library (lifetime in a moment). For thelastgoodname]
Life, the Universe, and Other Injustices
Faith, slutty and powerful, has taken everything, Buffy's friendship and Xander's virginity, but she can't have Giles.
Willow can hear Giles grunting and the scratch of fingernails on the circulation desk, smell the dirt and sweat of unwashed Faith, the bitter must and tea of Giles, see -- no -- where Faith's sliding around Giles... It's not right that Faith's fucking Giles helpless, not fair that Willow's choking back a moan, that Faith has broken Giles but all Willow's malfunctioning brain wants is to become Giles, pinned to the circulation desk, pressing Faith into her, cupping Faith's ass in ecstasy.
[Giles/Buffy. R. Raspberry (on anyone else this vest would be hideous). For queenzulu]
See Me
Her vest, Buffy tells him, is raspberry-colored -- purplish-pink and tight enough to reveal the perfection of her braless breasts. Two nipples, themselves the size of berries, demand to be plucked, and he gathers two pinches of fabric and flesh, twists hard enough for her to gasp. He smiles. Buffy laughs and gasps and smiles too, grabs his shirt and pulls it over his head so he's waist-up naked. He begs himself not to flinch. He's spent hours admiring the precious scarred surface of Buffy's bared skin, but he wants to hide himself from the unembarrassed desire of Buffy's gaze.
[Giles/Buffy. PG. Set sometime early. Twilight (but the dawning of our love). For glimmergirl]
Twilit
Giles blots as gently as he can, but Buffy still winces at his efforts to clean her newest bruise. He sighs and drops the flannel, instead pressing a thumb to the palest ring of blue. She winces again, and, more gently, he touches the center of her bruise, purpling like a sunset, then replaces his thumb with a kiss. Softly as his lips curve, he can't calm Buffy's sudden sob, and he closes his eyes and lets his breath be cooling balm. She's still crying, still shaken by her injury, and he's no tools left to comfort her, only love.
[Giles/Buffy/Faith. PG-13. S3 (There are no) secrets. For cadence_k]
The Good Kind of Hurt
Buffy, sweaty and flushed from training, collapses on the library floor. "I have to tell you something."
"Anything."
"I've been sleeping with Faith." She gulps for air -- terrified, like it's real now that Giles knows.
Very slowly, he whispers, "So have I."
She wants to throw up, not because Faith's been cheating (how can you cheat on a nothing of a non-relationship?), but because Giles is hers and the idea that someone else has claimed him, that he's watched (Watched) Faith in the intangible moment of orgasm makes her feel like something precious has been stolen.
"Fuck. You. Both."
[Giles/Remus Lupin. Harry Potter crossover. NC-17. Records (and other ways to remember). For bluerosefairy]
Greatly Exaggerated
Giles found a very grudging Wizard willing to rent him an owl, but he cannot find the address, which he knows is hiding among scattered papers from a period in his life he'd rather forget (drugged eyes rolling in a skull that no longer houses a mind) and absolutely can't (thin hips nudging his cock into awareness in ryhthm with a poorly played guitar).
He can remember Remus's desperate kisses, each of which felt like farewell, his obsessively careful blowjobs, the whining growl of orgasm, but he cannot find his address, as if Remus wrote himself out of Giles's records.
[Giles/Hermione Granger. Harry Potter crossover. R. This job we do (and other dead-ends). For callmesandy]
Alone at Last
Stalking vampires through back alleys is a hobby -- an obsession -- foreplay -- so dangerous that it no longer contains even a glimmer of joy for Rupert, of hope for Hermione. It has become a shared job, a distraction, and a reminder -- and at the moment when a vampire turns to dust, it becomes a shared climax more exhilarating than any sex could provide. They have never needed Harry, nor Buffy, nor the Council, nor the Ministry, no weapons, no textbooks. In the dark it is brilliantly clear -- they have only ever needed themselves for protection.
[Giles/Willow/Xander. Between S2+3. PG. We sing ourselves to sleep now. For flamingnik]
Unlullable
Willow leans away from the ghost of Buffy's laughter into the crook of Giles' arm, where there's safety in fatigue and shuddering laughter. They don't cry, but if they did, they would sob each other to sleep. Xander's heartbeat, thudding through the erection he can't hide, would be their metronome and they would know each other, thud, thud, thud, each kiss a reminder that Buffy's missing, that they are each other's responsibility now. Xander, stretched across Giles' lap, tries to untangle Willow's hair, but it's as hopeless as the three of them, resting on Giles' couch, pretending to be whole.
[Giles/Willow. S7. R. Magic (only, always). For gvambat]
The Only Way
Giles' fingers trace a column down Willow's back, and she can feel her body uncurl as Giles skims heat from her skin and replaces it in patterns, hearts and stars, rune magic written behind her knees and around her thighs. She thinks her back will break when Giles touches it again, Giles, who once stole magic to feed her hunger and her pain, who once would have died because of the flowing forces that he rubs, smears, adjusts until her body's as ready as her brain is for the blue heat of redemption that twines from his heart into hers.
[Giles/Willow/Tara. In a ~handwavy~ S7. NC-17. Momentum (all that keeps us going some days). For scribbling_elf]
Forget Regret
Willow plummets from delight to regret while Giles' fingers are still inside her, while Tara's still too satiated to stutter. Willow rolls away from Giles into Tara's softness, then back to Giles and his half-hard dick. When he's inside them, fingers or cock, he's frightening and intense, engorged with the sheer abundance of his years, but now his eyes are lazy, patient. Tara smirks her pleasure. Willow scrunches down Giles' bed and takes his erection into her mouth before she can remember she doesn't deserve this moment. She closes her eyes, licks and gulps without thinking, following her lovers home.
[Giles/female. NC-17. Post-S7. Old and kinda gross (Giles sex is not). For noelia_g]
One More Mistake
With his eyes open, Giles can't fuck her properly. The older he becomes the harder it is to erase personality and forget fear, to feel only softness, heat, and friction, to hear nothing in a woman's whimpers or moans but her wanting, at that moment, to be fucked. In its last years the Watchers' Council claimed, adapting feminist logic, that there was nothing sexual about the vampire's bite -- even, ridiculously, that vampires had no sexual desires. It's false and dangerous and can't stop Giles from feeling, this deep in even a very willing woman's cunt, that he's no innocent.