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I'll do anything to avoid washing up the mixer with the chocolate cake all over it...
More R than NC 17 but I'm never quite sure which one to use.
Part Eight
I hadn’t left the house for two days but Giles had said I was fit enough to go out as soon as the sun went down, so I wasn’t complaining any more. He was lying on the couch reading, his feet in my lap, and I was trying to decide whether rubbing them would count as tickling or a come on. Either would make him put down the book but they’d have entirely different results. Well, I suppose they’d end up with me in the same position - face down, stark bollocks naked ...
Then I remembered something and sat up straight, making Giles tip his tea all over him.
“Spike!”
“My coat!”
“My shirt?”
“Oh, it’ll wash. Giles, my coat; it got sliced up too; you didn’t throw it away did you?”
Must have sounded panicky because he took his feet off me, went over to the cupboard and pulled it out. “Here you are,” he said, tossing it over and going to mop up the spill. “Good as new.”
I stood up, caught it and looked it over. It smelled too clean, but that’d wear off, and the sleeve, which I remembered being in tatters, was repaired so well I had to peer at it to see the stitches.
“Who did this?”
Giles sat down and stretched out again. “Dawn sponged off the blood, with many exclamations of disgust, and Tara did the sewing. I, uh, emptied the pockets first.” He looked mildly embarrassed. I thought back to what I usually keep in there and grinned.
“Bet you did. God, I could kiss them!”
“A thank you note should suffice,” he said, all prim and proper.
“You don’t think they’d prefer a kiss? Maybe even a hug –”
Best innocent look, but it was wasted as he didn’t look at me, didn’t even move apart from flicking over a page in his book. “I say where your mouth goes, Spike. Not you.” And we were back in that place again, as if we’d never left, and the last of the doubts vanished.
How does he do that? Make a few words wrap around me and squeeze tightly? Not that I was going to give up pushing him. Been too quiet around here.
“You do?”
“Always.” Gave me this considering look, as if he was hungry and trying to decide on the best place to start nibbling. Gets me hard, but I know he’s beaten me to it, because by the time he’s looking like that, he’s ready to fuck me and I’d better catch up fast because he doesn’t like waiting.
He crooked his finger, jerked his head, and I went over to him. Lazy git didn’t even sit up, just grabbed my wrist and pulled me so I was straddling him, with one knee wedged between him and the back of the couch, the other about to slip off.
“Want to go upstairs?” I said. “Not enough room on here ...”
“If I wanted suggestions I’d have told you to make them.”
Hmm. Didn’t have time to work that one out because he sighed and shoved me onto the floor. I landed in a heap and he threw two cushions beside me, lay down with his head on them and looked at me expectantly. I got back where I was before, sitting astride him, and waited.
“Quite comfortable now?” he asked.
“Hard on the knees.”
“Not on mine,” he pointed out.
“And your comfort’s all that matters.”
He rolled his eyes. “Finally, some light dawns.”
I leaned forward, putting my hands flat on the floor and asked him just where my mouth should be. Could feel how hard he was and I wondered how long it would take for it to be on his cock. Waited for him to tell me what to do, feeling everything narrow to a point and disappear until it was just us.
He brushed one finger against his lip and I bent down to kiss him there, fighting down impatience. Been so long ...he hadn’t done more than hold me since I got hurt, since the shop. Wanted more. Wanted him. Wanted him to stop thinking and stop treating me as if I would break, as if he had to hold back. He didn’t. Not ever, not with me. That was one thing I could give him and he wasn’t taking it, not really. Little flashes now and then but he held back even before I was hurt.
Fuck. Sounds like I wanted him to turn into a monster, channel Angel at his worst. Didn’t. That kind of cruelty wasn’t in him. Ruthless, yes; sadistic, no. But there’s as much darkness in a Watcher as there is in a Slayer and it needs feeding, needs attention. Know all about that, don’t I ... and if I couldn’t hand it out, taking it was just as good. Problem was going to be getting what I wanted from Giles without asking for it and making him have to say ‘no’.
So I kissed him, tongue flickering against his, gentle and soft, letting the ache build up because I needed something to be hurting me right then.
He pushed me back and looked at me, little bit puzzled, little bit curious. I wriggled, letting him feel how hard I was, and he laughed.
“What?”
“You’re so impatient. Do you know how much fun that is? When you’re practically quivering?”
Said it like a joke, but I wasn’t smiling. He leaned up on his elbows and looked me over. “Stand up. Strip,” he said.
“No ‘please’?” I said, letting out some of the frustration with a dig at him. He’s been working on my manners since I moved in, as if we had a garden party to go to.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon, Spike. Please stand up. Please strip for me. Please get your arse back here as quickly as possible because apparently we’re in a terrible rush to get it beaten and buggered.”
He sounded amused but he was starting to simmer. I turned up the heat, standing up and moving a few steps away so he could watch me without craning his head. “Thought you’d forgotten how to do either.”
“You’re still remarkably over dressed, Spike,” he said pointedly, ignoring my words, letting his eyes roam over me.
Cool voice, bored eyes. Not going to get a reaction. Right. I peeled out of my clothes, dropping them beside me. He glanced at them and I waited to be told to pick them up and fold them, or something else that would make me want to scream and break things. Want to. Didn’t mean I would.
“Turn around and kneel down.”
Did it, and waited. He came up behind me and brought my arms back, crossing my wrists behind me. “Think you could keep them like this for long?”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t want games. Wanted fucking. I was too hard to be obedient. Three minutes ago I’d been working up the energy to reach for the remote. Now I was ready to kill something if I didn’t come soon. Giles has that effect on me. Makes everything matter more and does it so fast ...
“I asked you a question.” Getting a nice edge to his voice.
“Tie me.”
Came out sounding more like an order than a plea and I felt him hesitate, the way a cat does just before it pounces. He moved away and opened a drawer, came back with –
“Cotton thread?”
Three strands wrapped around me, cutting into my wrists, making me go still as they’d snap so easily and he’d never believe it wasn’t on purpose.
“Not meant to hold you; just to remind you where I want your hands. You could break anything I used, if you wanted to.”
“Yes, but –”
His hand slipped around and covered my mouth. “Stop talking. You’re supposed to be kissing me.”
I bit his finger and ran my tongue over it. He bent his head, smiled against my shoulder and slid his finger between my lips. By the time I’d finished with it, if his finger could have come, it would have, and he was biting the back of my neck, marking it with his teeth, his arm round me so I could feel his heart beating against my back. Fast. Should have been. I’m good at this.
He stopped me, lay back against the cushions and told me to turn around. I managed it without snapping the thread and knelt beside him. I don’t know where he’d found the time, but he’d got rid of everything but his shirt. It was still buttoned and his cock was framed against white cotton, making him look more naked than I did.
“Where now, Giles?” Make it your fucking cock because I’m dying here.
“Anywhere, Spike. Just don’t make me come, or you won’t get to.”
I think he makes this up as he goes along. “What?”
“I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve argued with me or been slow to obey in the last ten minutes.” Now he sounded pissed off.
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Whining isn’t an attractive mood and in anyone over the age of two, it’s unforgivable. You’re not trying to understand. You just want me to fuck you.”
“There’s something wrong with that plan? You’re as ready as I am; why are you waiting?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m waiting for you.” Cold now, a hint of warning.
“Huh? I’m right here, Giles. I’m fucking here. Want me to beg? I’ll beg. Want me to whimper? I’m seconds away. Been so long. I need you. I need you in me right now. You’re driving me fucking crazy.”
“Teach you to go out and nearly get yourself fucking killed then!” Knew we hadn’t quite worked our way past that one. Giles doesn’t swear much; too many years minding his language around the brats. He’d been all sweet reason and consideration; should have seen this coming.
“So this is your way of punishing me? Because it sucks.”
Just like that, he went back to level voice, calm curiosity, research man. How he manages it when he’s half naked, I don’t know, but he does. “Tell me what would hurt then. Tell me what would punish you. I’m interested.”
I floundered. “You could – you could – fuck, I don’t know. Thrash me. Yeah. Get out that crop of yours and - ”
He snorted. “You’d love it. Try again. What do you hate me doing the most?”
Took me about thirty seconds to admit what it took no time at all to figure out. “Ignoring me.”
“Want me to do that?”
“No.”
“Isn’t this better?”
“Suppose.”
“Then stop whining and do as you’re told.”
“Kiss you anywhere?” He nodded. “But not make you come. So I can’t kiss you anywhere interesting.”
He closed his eyes. “Are you trying to be insulting about 90 percent of my body?”
“No, but –”
He rolled over, stood up, walked off. “Giles! Where are you – oh.”
I’d forgotten where we were the last time he smacked my arse. Right here and we hadn’t tidied up, so he found what he was after straight away. “Think of this as a commercial break, Spike,” he whispered in my ear, kneeling me up so my head and shoulders were resting on the couch, my hands still behind me. “A way of relieving my considerable irritation with your continuing –” He paused for thought and then brought the crop down as hard as he could, “complaints.”
A cloud of dust came up. “You hit the couch.”
“It’s hard to miss at this range.”
“Not my backside.”
He slipped the crop between my knees, running it along the inside of my thigh until it rested against my balls, making me gasp and shudder, back arching in. “Does that explain why? As you weren’t paying attention earlier when we discussed just what punishes you and what you get off on?”
“Giles, I don’t know what you want me to do.” Frustration had stopped being an emotion and felt like a second skin, tight and suffocating.
“Yes, you do.”
“Tell me? Please?” I waited and then added, “Help me?”
Don’t ask him that often. Heard him sigh and then he knelt beside me, fisted his hand in my hair, yanked my head around and kissed me hard, letting it melt into something sweeter when I kissed him back. Stopped it then, and looked at me. “Start over, Spike. You do ... do what you want to. Anything. To me. Now.”
I opened my mouth to ask a question and he glared at me. I shut it again. Anything I wanted but no more questions? I could do that. I thought about it. Anything? Did that include getting my fucking hands free? Because it would make it much more fun...
He got back on the couch and sat there, waiting. I stood up, turned around so my hands were in front of him and tugged my wrists apart, being very careful not to break the thread. He circled my wrists with his hands and said, “If it’s what you want ...” and pulled his hands apart, freeing me. He had to do that. He’d put it on me; wasn’t up to me to take it off, no matter how much the rules had changed. Not that they had, not really.
‘What I want’? Why wouldn’t it be? I knelt down and wrapped my hand around his cock, feeling it heavy and full in my hand. Had to taste it, just had to ... and if I did, I wouldn’t stop and he’d come and it would all be over and - fuck.
I looked at him. “Want to say something.”
He didn’t say not to, so I carried on. “Going to make you come. You need to. Doesn’t count, right? I won’t, I promise, but you, yeah, you need to.”
He closed his eyes and I took that as permission, bent down and took him in, nearly coming just from the taste of him, the feel of it, the smell of arousal and need. Tried to do exactly what I’d done to his finger, trying to remember how I’d licked and sucked at it, wondering if he’d notice what I was doing. The way his hips were jerking and the sounds he was making, maybe not. I pushed him down with one hand on his leg, keeping the other on his cock, took him in deep and felt that pause as his cock got harder and he came. Knew he’d been close. I looked up at him and his eyes were open again and he was watching me, face still not back to normal. Ever watch someone come? Ever watch them when they don’t know you are? Maybe when it’s dark and they forget you’re a vampire? Easy to get shy, hide your head against a shoulder or a pillow, because that face, that expression, it’s about as honest as it gets, because you’re not in control of it, not trying to look good, not worried about looking stupid. Too much else to think about.
Giles never hides, not from me. I’ve seen him come. I’ve seen him...and he never shuts me out, always lets me share it, feel it with him. You think that’s nothing? Try it.
Now he was looking at me and he smiled. “I think you were right,” he murmured, his voice husky, catching in his throat. “So, is it your turn now?”
Sat back and looked at him. Knowing I could fuck him – and yeah, that was what he was offering – was tempting, but not like this. Contrary to appearances, I’m not a horny teenager. When I fuck Giles, and I will, count on it, the first time at least, it’s going to be on a bed. And I’m going to take my time. Besides, I wasn’t even sure the door was locked. Odds were good one of the Scoobies might take it into their head to pop around with some grapes and if they came barging in when I had tongue, fingers or cock in Giles, I’m thinking we’d be back at hating me.
I’d also had time to think. ‘Start over’. I’d asked for help and he’d given me a second chance. Do what he wanted and no talking back – or do it my way, show him what I could do when I put my mind to pleasing him.
Yeah. Let myself dream on for a minute and then sat down beside him, pulled him around so his feet were back in my lap and smiled at him.
His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled back at me and he said, “Come here.”
So my knee got wedged again and I waited patiently. He sat up and wrapped his arms around me and kissed me ...love, approval, appreciation ... all there, and then there was nothing but heat and we were on the floor and we were rolling and biting and grabbing and his skin was warm under my hands and he was moaning in my ear, even as his teeth bit down on it, and his fingers were in me and it hurt just enough to make me want to tell him to do it again but by the time I managed to say it, he’d already done it.
More R than NC 17 but I'm never quite sure which one to use.
Part Eight
I hadn’t left the house for two days but Giles had said I was fit enough to go out as soon as the sun went down, so I wasn’t complaining any more. He was lying on the couch reading, his feet in my lap, and I was trying to decide whether rubbing them would count as tickling or a come on. Either would make him put down the book but they’d have entirely different results. Well, I suppose they’d end up with me in the same position - face down, stark bollocks naked ...
Then I remembered something and sat up straight, making Giles tip his tea all over him.
“Spike!”
“My coat!”
“My shirt?”
“Oh, it’ll wash. Giles, my coat; it got sliced up too; you didn’t throw it away did you?”
Must have sounded panicky because he took his feet off me, went over to the cupboard and pulled it out. “Here you are,” he said, tossing it over and going to mop up the spill. “Good as new.”
I stood up, caught it and looked it over. It smelled too clean, but that’d wear off, and the sleeve, which I remembered being in tatters, was repaired so well I had to peer at it to see the stitches.
“Who did this?”
Giles sat down and stretched out again. “Dawn sponged off the blood, with many exclamations of disgust, and Tara did the sewing. I, uh, emptied the pockets first.” He looked mildly embarrassed. I thought back to what I usually keep in there and grinned.
“Bet you did. God, I could kiss them!”
“A thank you note should suffice,” he said, all prim and proper.
“You don’t think they’d prefer a kiss? Maybe even a hug –”
Best innocent look, but it was wasted as he didn’t look at me, didn’t even move apart from flicking over a page in his book. “I say where your mouth goes, Spike. Not you.” And we were back in that place again, as if we’d never left, and the last of the doubts vanished.
How does he do that? Make a few words wrap around me and squeeze tightly? Not that I was going to give up pushing him. Been too quiet around here.
“You do?”
“Always.” Gave me this considering look, as if he was hungry and trying to decide on the best place to start nibbling. Gets me hard, but I know he’s beaten me to it, because by the time he’s looking like that, he’s ready to fuck me and I’d better catch up fast because he doesn’t like waiting.
He crooked his finger, jerked his head, and I went over to him. Lazy git didn’t even sit up, just grabbed my wrist and pulled me so I was straddling him, with one knee wedged between him and the back of the couch, the other about to slip off.
“Want to go upstairs?” I said. “Not enough room on here ...”
“If I wanted suggestions I’d have told you to make them.”
Hmm. Didn’t have time to work that one out because he sighed and shoved me onto the floor. I landed in a heap and he threw two cushions beside me, lay down with his head on them and looked at me expectantly. I got back where I was before, sitting astride him, and waited.
“Quite comfortable now?” he asked.
“Hard on the knees.”
“Not on mine,” he pointed out.
“And your comfort’s all that matters.”
He rolled his eyes. “Finally, some light dawns.”
I leaned forward, putting my hands flat on the floor and asked him just where my mouth should be. Could feel how hard he was and I wondered how long it would take for it to be on his cock. Waited for him to tell me what to do, feeling everything narrow to a point and disappear until it was just us.
He brushed one finger against his lip and I bent down to kiss him there, fighting down impatience. Been so long ...he hadn’t done more than hold me since I got hurt, since the shop. Wanted more. Wanted him. Wanted him to stop thinking and stop treating me as if I would break, as if he had to hold back. He didn’t. Not ever, not with me. That was one thing I could give him and he wasn’t taking it, not really. Little flashes now and then but he held back even before I was hurt.
Fuck. Sounds like I wanted him to turn into a monster, channel Angel at his worst. Didn’t. That kind of cruelty wasn’t in him. Ruthless, yes; sadistic, no. But there’s as much darkness in a Watcher as there is in a Slayer and it needs feeding, needs attention. Know all about that, don’t I ... and if I couldn’t hand it out, taking it was just as good. Problem was going to be getting what I wanted from Giles without asking for it and making him have to say ‘no’.
So I kissed him, tongue flickering against his, gentle and soft, letting the ache build up because I needed something to be hurting me right then.
He pushed me back and looked at me, little bit puzzled, little bit curious. I wriggled, letting him feel how hard I was, and he laughed.
“What?”
“You’re so impatient. Do you know how much fun that is? When you’re practically quivering?”
Said it like a joke, but I wasn’t smiling. He leaned up on his elbows and looked me over. “Stand up. Strip,” he said.
“No ‘please’?” I said, letting out some of the frustration with a dig at him. He’s been working on my manners since I moved in, as if we had a garden party to go to.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon, Spike. Please stand up. Please strip for me. Please get your arse back here as quickly as possible because apparently we’re in a terrible rush to get it beaten and buggered.”
He sounded amused but he was starting to simmer. I turned up the heat, standing up and moving a few steps away so he could watch me without craning his head. “Thought you’d forgotten how to do either.”
“You’re still remarkably over dressed, Spike,” he said pointedly, ignoring my words, letting his eyes roam over me.
Cool voice, bored eyes. Not going to get a reaction. Right. I peeled out of my clothes, dropping them beside me. He glanced at them and I waited to be told to pick them up and fold them, or something else that would make me want to scream and break things. Want to. Didn’t mean I would.
“Turn around and kneel down.”
Did it, and waited. He came up behind me and brought my arms back, crossing my wrists behind me. “Think you could keep them like this for long?”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t want games. Wanted fucking. I was too hard to be obedient. Three minutes ago I’d been working up the energy to reach for the remote. Now I was ready to kill something if I didn’t come soon. Giles has that effect on me. Makes everything matter more and does it so fast ...
“I asked you a question.” Getting a nice edge to his voice.
“Tie me.”
Came out sounding more like an order than a plea and I felt him hesitate, the way a cat does just before it pounces. He moved away and opened a drawer, came back with –
“Cotton thread?”
Three strands wrapped around me, cutting into my wrists, making me go still as they’d snap so easily and he’d never believe it wasn’t on purpose.
“Not meant to hold you; just to remind you where I want your hands. You could break anything I used, if you wanted to.”
“Yes, but –”
His hand slipped around and covered my mouth. “Stop talking. You’re supposed to be kissing me.”
I bit his finger and ran my tongue over it. He bent his head, smiled against my shoulder and slid his finger between my lips. By the time I’d finished with it, if his finger could have come, it would have, and he was biting the back of my neck, marking it with his teeth, his arm round me so I could feel his heart beating against my back. Fast. Should have been. I’m good at this.
He stopped me, lay back against the cushions and told me to turn around. I managed it without snapping the thread and knelt beside him. I don’t know where he’d found the time, but he’d got rid of everything but his shirt. It was still buttoned and his cock was framed against white cotton, making him look more naked than I did.
“Where now, Giles?” Make it your fucking cock because I’m dying here.
“Anywhere, Spike. Just don’t make me come, or you won’t get to.”
I think he makes this up as he goes along. “What?”
“I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve argued with me or been slow to obey in the last ten minutes.” Now he sounded pissed off.
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Whining isn’t an attractive mood and in anyone over the age of two, it’s unforgivable. You’re not trying to understand. You just want me to fuck you.”
“There’s something wrong with that plan? You’re as ready as I am; why are you waiting?”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m waiting for you.” Cold now, a hint of warning.
“Huh? I’m right here, Giles. I’m fucking here. Want me to beg? I’ll beg. Want me to whimper? I’m seconds away. Been so long. I need you. I need you in me right now. You’re driving me fucking crazy.”
“Teach you to go out and nearly get yourself fucking killed then!” Knew we hadn’t quite worked our way past that one. Giles doesn’t swear much; too many years minding his language around the brats. He’d been all sweet reason and consideration; should have seen this coming.
“So this is your way of punishing me? Because it sucks.”
Just like that, he went back to level voice, calm curiosity, research man. How he manages it when he’s half naked, I don’t know, but he does. “Tell me what would hurt then. Tell me what would punish you. I’m interested.”
I floundered. “You could – you could – fuck, I don’t know. Thrash me. Yeah. Get out that crop of yours and - ”
He snorted. “You’d love it. Try again. What do you hate me doing the most?”
Took me about thirty seconds to admit what it took no time at all to figure out. “Ignoring me.”
“Want me to do that?”
“No.”
“Isn’t this better?”
“Suppose.”
“Then stop whining and do as you’re told.”
“Kiss you anywhere?” He nodded. “But not make you come. So I can’t kiss you anywhere interesting.”
He closed his eyes. “Are you trying to be insulting about 90 percent of my body?”
“No, but –”
He rolled over, stood up, walked off. “Giles! Where are you – oh.”
I’d forgotten where we were the last time he smacked my arse. Right here and we hadn’t tidied up, so he found what he was after straight away. “Think of this as a commercial break, Spike,” he whispered in my ear, kneeling me up so my head and shoulders were resting on the couch, my hands still behind me. “A way of relieving my considerable irritation with your continuing –” He paused for thought and then brought the crop down as hard as he could, “complaints.”
A cloud of dust came up. “You hit the couch.”
“It’s hard to miss at this range.”
“Not my backside.”
He slipped the crop between my knees, running it along the inside of my thigh until it rested against my balls, making me gasp and shudder, back arching in. “Does that explain why? As you weren’t paying attention earlier when we discussed just what punishes you and what you get off on?”
“Giles, I don’t know what you want me to do.” Frustration had stopped being an emotion and felt like a second skin, tight and suffocating.
“Yes, you do.”
“Tell me? Please?” I waited and then added, “Help me?”
Don’t ask him that often. Heard him sigh and then he knelt beside me, fisted his hand in my hair, yanked my head around and kissed me hard, letting it melt into something sweeter when I kissed him back. Stopped it then, and looked at me. “Start over, Spike. You do ... do what you want to. Anything. To me. Now.”
I opened my mouth to ask a question and he glared at me. I shut it again. Anything I wanted but no more questions? I could do that. I thought about it. Anything? Did that include getting my fucking hands free? Because it would make it much more fun...
He got back on the couch and sat there, waiting. I stood up, turned around so my hands were in front of him and tugged my wrists apart, being very careful not to break the thread. He circled my wrists with his hands and said, “If it’s what you want ...” and pulled his hands apart, freeing me. He had to do that. He’d put it on me; wasn’t up to me to take it off, no matter how much the rules had changed. Not that they had, not really.
‘What I want’? Why wouldn’t it be? I knelt down and wrapped my hand around his cock, feeling it heavy and full in my hand. Had to taste it, just had to ... and if I did, I wouldn’t stop and he’d come and it would all be over and - fuck.
I looked at him. “Want to say something.”
He didn’t say not to, so I carried on. “Going to make you come. You need to. Doesn’t count, right? I won’t, I promise, but you, yeah, you need to.”
He closed his eyes and I took that as permission, bent down and took him in, nearly coming just from the taste of him, the feel of it, the smell of arousal and need. Tried to do exactly what I’d done to his finger, trying to remember how I’d licked and sucked at it, wondering if he’d notice what I was doing. The way his hips were jerking and the sounds he was making, maybe not. I pushed him down with one hand on his leg, keeping the other on his cock, took him in deep and felt that pause as his cock got harder and he came. Knew he’d been close. I looked up at him and his eyes were open again and he was watching me, face still not back to normal. Ever watch someone come? Ever watch them when they don’t know you are? Maybe when it’s dark and they forget you’re a vampire? Easy to get shy, hide your head against a shoulder or a pillow, because that face, that expression, it’s about as honest as it gets, because you’re not in control of it, not trying to look good, not worried about looking stupid. Too much else to think about.
Giles never hides, not from me. I’ve seen him come. I’ve seen him...and he never shuts me out, always lets me share it, feel it with him. You think that’s nothing? Try it.
Now he was looking at me and he smiled. “I think you were right,” he murmured, his voice husky, catching in his throat. “So, is it your turn now?”
Sat back and looked at him. Knowing I could fuck him – and yeah, that was what he was offering – was tempting, but not like this. Contrary to appearances, I’m not a horny teenager. When I fuck Giles, and I will, count on it, the first time at least, it’s going to be on a bed. And I’m going to take my time. Besides, I wasn’t even sure the door was locked. Odds were good one of the Scoobies might take it into their head to pop around with some grapes and if they came barging in when I had tongue, fingers or cock in Giles, I’m thinking we’d be back at hating me.
I’d also had time to think. ‘Start over’. I’d asked for help and he’d given me a second chance. Do what he wanted and no talking back – or do it my way, show him what I could do when I put my mind to pleasing him.
Yeah. Let myself dream on for a minute and then sat down beside him, pulled him around so his feet were back in my lap and smiled at him.
His eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled back at me and he said, “Come here.”
So my knee got wedged again and I waited patiently. He sat up and wrapped his arms around me and kissed me ...love, approval, appreciation ... all there, and then there was nothing but heat and we were on the floor and we were rolling and biting and grabbing and his skin was warm under my hands and he was moaning in my ear, even as his teeth bit down on it, and his fingers were in me and it hurt just enough to make me want to tell him to do it again but by the time I managed to say it, he’d already done it.