Giles... The Last Boy Scout?
Title: Giles... The Last Boy Scout?
Distribution: If you think it is worth it, who am I to argue?
Content: : I'd say we're bordering on NC-17 here, but I could be wrong. If bad attempts at racy writing bother you, then stop here!!!
Disclaimer: Everything in here belongs to Joss Wehdon, WB, Fox, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox Film Corp., etc., etc., etc., but I may eventually throw some of my own twisted little friends in to play... heh heh heh.
WARNING: This is my first full-fledged attempt at boring a captive audience. Please forgive me if my writing gets too flowery...
The world was coming to an end (as was the norm for
Sunnydale), and tempers were growing short. Thick stacks of
books covered nearly every relatively level surface in the home
of Rupert Giles. A motley group of teenagers lay draped
across the few uncluttered pieces of furniture, trying
desperately to discover the key to this latest threat.
A thick cloud of dust accompanied the slamming of a particularly crusty looking old book, as Buffy shoved it away from herself in annoyance. "Well, I've found squat." She scowled at the offending book as if to force it into confessing the meaning of life. "How are we going to fight this thing if we can't even find it in any of these... " she gestured broadly at the ragged stacks of books.
"Well, maybe we've just been looking in the wrong place? I mean, we could have chosen the wrong books 'r something... I could get back on the web again." Willow's hopeful eyes searched the room for a better-than-tepid reaction. Nope. Not a single person was thrilled at the idea of looking through any more books.
Xander cracked a slightly delirious smile at Willow's swiftly falling face. "We're all gonna die aren't we?"
"It isn't as if you had a life anyway," Cordelia snipped.
This comment drew a distracted scowl from Giles, and a semi-amused snort from Wesley. "It seems to me that we would perhaps make a great deal more progress, if certain parties would refrain from useless prattle, " stated Giles as he turned another delicate page.
"OK. Translation please?"
"Shut up and read Xander."
"That's it. Shut up. Close your book. Get off my couch. Get your things and get out." He didn't even look up from his book.
Xander's jaw unhinged so abruptly, he very nearly drooled on himself. "Out?" he squeaked. "Leave?"
"You heard him. Now stop acting like the village idiot and get going." Cordy sniffed her disapproval before she shifted into a more visually appealing position. "Don't you think he's being disruptive Wesley?"
Rupert Giles quietly closed his book. Standing slowly, so as not to disturb any of the surrounding piles, he proceeded to glare at each person in turn. The result was quite impressive. Xander scrambled out from beneath an overhanging pile of books and papers, Cordelia took Wesley by the hand to head for the door, and Willow (Oz in tow of course) brought up the rear. Only Buffy remained.
"Won't there be something important going on at The Bronze tonight? Something that needs your immediate attention?"
"Nope." Buffy gave him her most winning smile. "I'm all yours tonight."
"How bloody lucky of me." Casting her a final glowering look, he settled himself behind his desk once more.
Three more hours of pointless reading left Buffy and Giles in a dusty and exhausted state. One final book remained, but neither of them pounced upon it. Undoubtedly, the key to fighting off an obscure curse wouldn't be found in a book entitled "Elizabethan Blackwork Patterns". Buffy watched Giles with a kind of sick fascination as he carefully wove his way to the kitchen---spouting a soft stream of swearing all the way. As soon as he was safely out of sight, she reached for the phone.
Giles stood in the kitchen, listening to the soft hiss of the tea kettle on the stove. "How are we ever going to get out of this one?" he mused to himself. He scarcely paid any attention to the scuffling sounds coming from upstairs, until a loud thud broke his revery.
"Buffy!?" he shouted from the kitchen. The thumping noise made its way down the stairs and ended abruptly somewhere in the front room. He stepped out to look at what had caused all the commotion. Buffy was standing by the entryway with a dufflebag.
"We're leaving," she said. She held the bag out to his questioning glance. "You can either come over here and get this thing, or you can risk all of these books when I throw it at you." Before he could make a move to save either the books or the bag, Buffy quickly commanded him to turn off the stove and any other item he didn't want left turned on that night.
"What is all of this about?" he asked when he finally made his way to the door.
"This curse thingy won't be a threat for a whole 'nother week right?"
He wearily nodded his answer.
"Good. Now go get into your car. We're taking a little vacation and I won't take 'no' for an answer."
Amazingly, Giles went out to the car without a fight. "He's worse off than I thought." whispered Buffy as she locked up the house. An instant later found her behind the wheel of the Giles-mobile, while Giles sat dejectedly in the passenger seat with his forehead against the window. This was not a good sign.
The silence was nearly unbearable, but after half an hour Giles finally spoke up. "Where are you taking me Buffy? There's only one hour left till sundown and we are nowhere near Sunnydale."
Buffy smiled at her exhausted Watcher (ex-Watcher she reminded herself). "I told you. Vacation? You know---that thing that normal people do when reality gets to be too much? They pack a bag and get in a car. Then they drive for long periods of time without making any pit-stops, and sing 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall' all the way to the camp grounds."
"Camping? We have a curse to research and you're taking me camping???" The incredulous look on his face was too much. Buffy burst out laughing so hard, she nearly had to pull the car over. "Bloody hell," he muttered while Buffy swerved about on the deserted road. "Camping. What does go on in that girl's head?"
"Hush. We have one more hour before the sun sets, and I'd like to be indoors when it happens. For one weekend we are going to be like the rest of the clueless population and we won't be checkin' out graveyards for undead nasties. I've already arranged for the Gang to keep an eye on the town for us, and Angel will be there to help. We'll just be another ordinary couple of overstressed yahoos looking for 48 hours of relaxation in the mountains."
Giles glared at his Slayer's profile for the rest of the drive.
Buffy had to physically haul Giles from the passenger seat of
the car, and lead him into the safety of the little one-room
cabin. She dropped his dufflebag and guided the frazzled
man to a worn leather chair. Even though the cabin wasn't
much bigger than her room at home, Giles had still managed to
make it feel comforting rather than cramped.
"So this is where you hide out when you aren't doing Watcher-ly stuff." She strolled from one wall to the other looking at the little pieces of his personality that were casually placed throughout the room. It was sort of like a more casual I'll-just-stay-in-my-sweat-pants-all-day version of his house. "Not bad" she thought. "A bit small, but not bad."
A soft cough from Giles brought her attention back to his presence. He was watching her with a strange little smile on his face. "Will you be leaving now?" he asked quietly. "I hardly think your mother would approve of your staying in a remote cabin with an older man... " He cut her off as she started to interrupt, "as I was saying---with an older man and only one bed."
"One?" Her eyes widened as his words sank in. She immediately focused upon the offending object while unbidden images flashed through her mind. Thoughts of a torturous weekend sleeping on a hard wooden floor or slumped over in a dusty chair filled her head. So much for relaxing.
"Where are you going to sleep Buffy? Will it be the chair, the floor, or the bed?" He practically purred the last bit in a slightly hoarse voice she had never heard before. His eyes were bright and alert, gleaming greenly at her in the slowly fading light. The voice and the look were doing strange things to her stomach. Buffy couldn't decide if she was feeling sick or something else entirely. Her knees were loose and watery as he advanced upon her. The ending of a story was running around and around in her head---something like 'Which would it be? The lady or the tiger?'.
Two more steps brought him into close quarters with her. He was looming over her (in a deliberate attempt to intimidate her no doubt), when she surprised him by gently rubbing the inside of her knee up his leg. She settled her knee at his hip for an instant, letting her leg coil gently around him before sliding her knee back down again. He was stunned into immobility.
She could scarcely believe what she was doing. One minute he was scaring her and the next---well, this was scaring her too, but at least he'd still have a soul in the morning... That was, if he didn't refuse her. She let one hand drift out to settle upon his waist while the other touched lightly against the heat of his throat. Slipping her thumb gently back and forth against the underside of his jaw, she felt him swallow convulsively. She slid her hand to the warm hard line of his shoulder and then began trailing her fingers down his chest. His hand moved to stop her before she could reach the belt at his waist.
"Buffy," he managed to choke out. He was breathing like he had been running uphill for miles with a bear on his trail. He noticed that she seemed to be experiencing the same lack of oxygen. She tipped her head back to look up into the tense lines of his face, as she wriggled her hand free from his grasp and brushed her knuckles against the front of his slacks. She was rewarded with a sharply drawn breath and a soft groan as his eyes slid shut. He pressed himself into her warm palm for a painful moment before tearing away from the inviting heat of her body.
He settled himself on the foot of the bed and gloomily watched her try to pull herself together. His eyes closed for a moment with the image of her standing there, panting as she let the wall support her. A soft sheen of sweat was already glowing on her throat, and he could smell the scent of her anticipation flooding the room like the tide. A soft shuffle brought his eyes open to focus squarely upon Buffy's breasts before she closed the remaining distance between them and straddled his lap.
She settled herself lightly astride him, and then slowly raised herself onto her knees, rubbing against him as she brought herself to her full height. Arms tight about his neck, Buffy brought her mouth down to meet his. They were both breathing so heavily, their tongues met before their lips sealed together. The small room seemed to echo with the harsh rasp of frantic breathing and the soft sucking sound of wet kisses.
Finally, he hauled her hips down and locked them against his own. He rolled her over onto her back and shoved until they were squarely on the bed. The shifting of his weight brought a strangled cry from her lips, and he rushed back against her body to kiss away her moans. Clothing became unbearably constricting and they made pains to remove it as quickly as possible. His motions were nearly frantic as he struggled with the clasp to Buffy's bra. In the end he simply gave up and roughly tore the strap down from her shoulder to bare her waiting breast. He devoured her with lips, tongue, and teeth---sucking, licking, and nipping at every bare bit of skin.
"Oh God---Giles!" Buffy gasped as his teeth grazed lightly over sensitive skin. Memories of her one night with Angel ran circles through her mind, as she arched against the warm weight of her Watcher's body. (Angel may have had two centuries worth of experience behind him, but Giles was... Giles was... WOW.)
He wasn't as gentle as Angel had been, in fact he was quite the opposite. His touch gradually became rougher---nearly bruising---the gentle nips of his teeth became almost savage, driving both of them to the very edges of their nerves. Buffy raked her nails down the bare expanse of his back, leaving angry red tracks across his pale skin. He responded by biting the delicate flesh of her throat below her ear, gripping just long enough for her to feel the even lines of his teeth... It wouldn't matter if he broke the skin, causing her to bleed... He was human.
He roughly jerked her hands from the burning flesh of his body and slammed them over her head. Pinning her to the bed with both his weight, and the heat of his stare, he glared down into her glazed eyes.
"Do you want this?" he growled. "Do you really want to get shagged by an old man?"
The open contempt in his voice shocked Buffy so completely, that she scarcely even wiggled. She blinked up at him to clear her vision, noticing for the first time how handsome he looked when he was angry... And sweaty... And naked.
It took only a split second for her to make up her mind, but with a breathless laugh and an instant's struggle, she managed to reverse their positions. Now, with her safely on top and his arms pinned beneath her palms, she grinned at him.
"In case you haven't noticed, age really isn't an issue with me these days."
He released a shaky breath. "Thank the Gods you said that. I think it would be the death of me if we stopped now!" He was having a bit of trouble holding his hips still while the scalding heat of her body was pressed against him. Their bodies slipped against one another, aided by more than mere sweat.
Releasing the iron grip on his arms, Buffy reached an almost shy hand between them to guide him into her.
She looked at him in confusion. Was he trying to think of another reason to stop?
He sucked in a sharp breath as her hand unconsciously clenched him tighter. "Top drawer... nightstand... back left corner... " he gasped. "Damn it all Buffy---HURRY!!!"
Lifting her body from his to forage through the mysterious drawer, Buffy discovered a cache of little foil packets neatly tucked away. "How long have these been here?" she asked with a sly smile. "They look brand new."
He squirmed slightly at her knowing glance.
"There's still a receipt in here---funny thing too---the date on it is from that last camping trip that got canceled." She settled herself astride his thighs and ran a teasing fingernail up the side of his groin---achingly close but still miles away from where he wanted her hand to settle. "Know what else is funny Giles? That last trip, the one that was supposed to be just the two of us but you flaked out on me? Well... I seem to remember you telling my mom how there were two beds up here, not just one great big one." She swirled her fingertip into intricate little patterns against his skin, while studying his reaction. "And you bought yourself a whole truckload of these... " She waggled one shiny packet back and forth before carefully tearing it open. Her eyes locked with his the instant her hand took possession of him, and slowly slid the waiting condom on. "So, what's up with that?"
"I'll show you 'What's up' " he growled as he rolled her onto her back. "Did I ever tell you what I do to chatty little prick-teasers? Hmmm?"
Chatty was not a word to describe either Buffy or Giles for quite some time, since neither of them could have constructed a complete sentence to save their lives by that point.
Peeling their sweat-glued bodies from one another, they shifted into more sleep-worthy positions in the dark room.
"Giles?" Buffy asked quietly. "You never did answer me about those condoms... or the bed."
His chest shook with an exhausted chuckle. Smoothing the damp hair from her face, he began to softly sing: "Be Prepared... That's the Boy Scout's marching song... Be Prepared... As through life you march along... " His voice dropped off into a shy silence as Buffy started to giggle.
"So... " she drawled, "want to earn another merit badge?"