The First Taste
By Jacqui

Title: The First Taste
Author: Jacqui: wily_one24@yahoo.com.au
Disclaimer: I didn’t do it. Nobody saw a thing. You can’t prove anything. Joss and Co own Buffy and all her friends. Fiona Apple owns the song "The First Taste".
Note: This fic goes by the theory that there are three versions to every argument: his, hers and the truth. It also goes by the theory that the only version to an argument that anybody really cares about is the hot, horizontal, makeup monkey mambo at the end. Please enjoy.
Rating: NC-17.
Feedback: Don’t make me beg. Please?


"And furthermore," A rather loud, drunken, female voice sounded in the car park. "I am not drunk!"

"Buffy, get in the car." A soft, though tired and sounding well beyond the limits of patience, voice answered.

She pouted her lips exaggeratedly, sighed and let herself be guided into the passenger seat of Giles’ car. Truth be told, she was feeling unsteady on her feet and was thankful to have an excuse to be leaving so early. Buffy looked around Giles’ shoulders to wave, somewhat erratically, to Willow and Oz who were trying valiantly not to laugh at her. Giles walked around to the driver’s side of the car and turned to face them.

"Well, thank you. I’ll, um, I’ll make sure she gets home safely. Lord knows what Joyce is going to say."

Willow’s eyebrows furrowed.

"Mrs. Summers is out of town for the week, Giles."

"Oh!" He could have kicked himself for not remembering. "Don’t worry, I’ll look after her. You two go back inside and enjoy yourselves."

The look of relief was comical on both their faces, or would have been had Oz made an expression, but Giles could read him anyway. He said goodnight to them and then turned to face his erstwhile slayer in the passenger seat. She looked at him with wide, questioning eyes.

"Giles? Is the world supposed to sway like this? It never did before."

His only answer was a small chuckle to himself as he turned the key in the ignition. The car sprang to life and they rumbled their way out of the bustle of the other cars and into the night.

"Oh Giles, I mean it, stop the world. I really, really, want to get off now."

"What, pray tell," He could not resist teasing her in this moment of weakness, "makes you think I could stop the world?"

"Because you’re Giles, silly. You’re Giles."

As if that answered everything. He took his eyes off the road to look at her. She was serious. Her head was resting on the back of the seat and was tilted sideways to face him. In her eyes was a look of complete trust and belief, it took his breath away. They had to get home before he lost all control and did something they’d both regret.

By the time they got to his house, Buffy was fast asleep and Giles had to carry her up the stairs. She fit into his arms as easily as she had the day she was wearing that cheerleading uniform. Don’t think about that, you dirty old man, his brain screamed at him. He carried her to the bed, laid her down and took off her jacket and shoes, making sure she was comfortable under the covers. Several moments were taken just to look at her. His mind memorizing every detail, the sweet, baby-pink bow of her mouth, the flutter of an eyelash on a rosy cheek.

Buffy snorted in her sleep.

Giles chuckled again and closed the door behind him.

* * * *

When did they start excavation on her brain? Probably about the same time they decided to carpet her tongue and cement the inside of her stomach. Buffy tried to open her eyes and regretted it immediately as the room she was in throbbed sickeningly. The room she was in? Exactly what room was she in? Groaning, she realized she could not remember the end of the night before, at least, not without much probing of her already throbbing brain. Forcing her eyes open a fraction of an inch, she looked around. The room seemed vaguely familiar, as if she’d seen it once or twice before. She had, she realized, as she saw the bedside lamp, the little night stand and an old, dusty tome that could only belong to… oh no. A small knock sounded on the door and she groaned into the pillow.

"I’m awake."

As she heard him open the door and approach the bed, something occurred to her. He’d seen her drunk, had obviously bought her here and taken care of her. What had she done? More importantly, what had she said? The possibilities made the blood rush to her cheeks.

"How are you feeling this morning?" His voice held little reproach, just a gentle concern.

"I’m pretty sure I’m alive. Well, at least partly sure."

He smiled as she fought herself into a seated position against the headboard, so that she could face him. Two things became clear to her, she was still fully dressed and that had to be of the good, and that his voice was not making her pounding head worse. He was holding a tray in his hands and the cement in her stomach churned and eddied.

"I bought you something to make you feel a little more human."

"I really don’t think I…"

He set the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed, in the little space next to her legs. Lifting the steaming cup, he bought it to her hands. Warmth immediately seeped into her fingers and she almost purred.

"You’re a man among men. You’re a god. Thank you."

"It’s flavored, just the way you like it, and sweetened with so much sugar I think your dentist is having a heart attack as we speak."

She smiled wanly, but as she bought the cup to her lips, the scent of apple and cinnamon engulfed her and she knew she had to drink it. The hot liquid soothed her and she couldn’t repress a giggle at the thought of Giles spooning sugar into the cup. He grimaced every time she made tea and could never refrain from making some comment about ‘real tea’.

"Here."

"Toast? I don’t think so…"

"Eat it. Trust me, you’ll feel better."

His voice gave no room for argument and Buffy gave in. She forced down a bite and to her surprise it really did make her feel better. It had, she tried to tell herself, absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Giles was seated there, fussing over her, spoiling her. She could definitely get used to that, it felt so good, so safe, so right.

"Giles?" She tried to keep her voice casual.

"Mm?"

"Where did you sleep?"

"What? Oh, on the sofa, downstairs."

Buffy didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

"I’m sorry, Giles. You must think I’m a spoiled brat, at the very best an idiot."

"What? No." He looked at her, puzzled. "Why would you say that?"

"Because of all the things I did last night." She couldn’t meet his eyes and was thankful for the tea in her hands that allowed her to be distracted without being obvious. "Because of all the things I did that I can’t remember."

"I don’t think you have much to worry about in that respect."

His words were meant to calm and reassure her, but they had the opposite effect. She didn’t know why, but she sensed that he wasn’t telling her everything, and that made her hyper alert. What was he holding back, what wouldn’t he tell her? She would get it out of him if it killed her, but first things first.

"Giles? The outside of me is feeling about as great as the inside of me, right now, can I grab a shower?"

"Yes. Yes of course." Relief flooded him. He didn’t want to think about the night before, or why he’d done what he’d done, and why Buffy had done what she’d done. Better to let sleeping dogs lie.

* * * *

He was in the kitchen, washing the last of the dishes when she came down the stairs. The shirt she’d worn last night had been discarded in favor of one of his shirts, and it hung over her skirt in a way that made him think all his shirts would look better on her than they would on him.

Buffy hesitated at the doorway, Giles was being too nice.

"So where’s the lecture? My head’s only half thundering now, if you’re gonna tell me off, do it now. I’m ready."

"I’m not going to give you a lecture." He sighed and looked away. "I think you’re old enough to realize you made some mistakes last night."

Damn, he wasn’t going to make this easy. If he’d only yelled at her, thrown some sort of accusation at her then she’d be able to defend herself, come up with some rationalization, and then they could put it all behind them. But no, he was going to go with the whole, you know what you’ve done, scenario. Fine, play it the hard way.

"And what mistakes would those be?"

He did not dignify that with a response. Calmly and quietly he replaced the now cleaned and dried cups in the cupboard. The gesture was so distant, so removed from the eddy of emotion that whirled in her already clouded head that she exploded.

"Giles! Damn it! So I got drunk, it wasn’t my fault!"

He took the bait.

"Not your fault? I’m sorry, I must have gotten you confused with the other Buffy Summers who drank herself into oblivion."

"I had to! Do you think it was easy for me? To watch you…" She stopped, not wanting to finish that sentence. Not wanting to go where her mind was forcing her to go. She’d already let too much out.

"Watch me what? Buffy, I wasn’t doing anything, nothing compared to what you were…" Again a sentence hung in the air, unfinished. This time it was Giles who cut himself short. Things were getting a tad nasty. It was too late. Those sleeping dogs were well awake and snarling at each other.

"Who was she anyway?"

"I don’t know. It wasn’t like I had more than ten minutes with her, is it?"

"Oh that’s nice. That’s just lovely, Giles. Throw it all in my face."

"What else am I supposed to do? Do you think I’m a monk? I’m supposed to just sit back and watch you throw yourself at some boy, while I’m there alone?"

"Excuse me?" Buffy’s eyebrows decided to go on a hike, right up into her hairline. "Who was throwing me at him? If I hadn’t gone to dance with him, you would have physically shoved me on the dance floor."

"Oh yes." He spat back at her. "You were so reluctant to go, weren’t you? What were your exact words, wait, give me a minute," He raised his voice to a bad impression of a bored female, "oh yes ‘sorry, I really don’t think I should. Can’t leave Giles here alone, can I?’ Isn’t that what you said?"

"Exactly! See?"

"What?" What? Exactly where had he lost the plot? He backtracked over the conversation to see what he had missed.

"That was your cue to make some possessive gesture so that he would leave me alone, but no, you had to be all polite and proper and assure him you didn’t mind at all. You practically gave me away!"

Is that what he’d done? He’d taken her comment to heart, the bored tone in her voice, and had all but shoved her in his arms. What he’d wanted, after all, was for her to have a good time.

"You… you didn’t want to dance with him?"

"No! He’s an insufferable prig who won’t shut up about his car. I tried to get away from him, but every time I looked to you, you were busy with… with…"

"Gina. Another insufferable prig who won’t stop muttering about some French restaurant she’s about to open."

They stopped, looked at each other and giggled nervously.

"So you mean we both made fools of ourselves for absolutely nothing?"

"Well, some of us more than others." He gave her a pointed look.

"I don’t know what you mean, I think wine looked very nice on the front of her dress, gave it a bit of flair."

She had stepped forward and before he could register what she was doing, she’d placed one hand behind his head and drew him forward to claim his lips. If ever there was a right time, if Buffy was ever going to tell him how she felt, it would have to be now. She had to find out exactly how he felt about her.

She found out soon enough. He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders and pushed her away.

"No. I don’t think…"

Buffy had always thought that people were exaggerating when they said hangovers felt like jackhammers in their heads. Now she knew they were right. It didn’t leave much room for patience, or sensible thought and she exploded yet again that morning. All the frustration she’d felt lately, the confusion over what she felt about Giles and what he felt about her, boiled up and consumed her.

"God Giles! What do you want from me? Tell me, because I sure as hell can’t figure it out! One minute I think you’re right there with me, and the next you’re a million miles away. You push me at these guys and the moment I actually try to have something resembling a relationship with them, you turn into the jealous boyfriend! Do you like playing with my emotions? What? If you’re not interested, then what? Giles? What do you want from me?"

He couldn’t answer, not in the way he wanted to. Everything in him fought for him to shout out that he wanted nothing else but to be with her, to take her in his arms and everyone else be damned. But a tiny part of him, the part that obviously controlled the others, kept him silent. Told him that what he wanted could never be and to stop playing with both of their emotions. He sighed.

"I don’t know Buffy, I don’t know."

One single tear slid down her cheek and she looked at him for several seconds, accusingly, before quietly walking out the door. The sound of the door slamming behind her was the loneliest sound he’d ever heard.

* * * *

Giles could have kicked himself time and time again as the day came and went. He checked his watch for the countless time and at two o’clock finally conceded that Buffy was not going to stop by after patrols. He wondered whether she’d gone patrolling at all. They needed to talk. She hadn’t been wrong, not by any stretch of the imagination.

He was about to go up the stairs when a package just inside the door caught his eye. It hadn’t been there before. A cassette fell out of the envelope followed by a note.

Giles,

You said you didn’t know what you wanted from me, but I know what I want from you. Listen to the tape. I’ll come by tomorrow night. We can talk then.

Buffy

It sounded so final. The words were stark, but they held for him a final hope, a faint glimmer that he could recover some of what he’d lost that morning. There was only one thing to do, listen to the tape and hope he liked what he heard. As the slow, hypnotic music wove its way into the room, he listened to the words and a smile grew on his lips.

I lie in an early bed, thinking late thoughts

Waiting for the black to replace my blue

I do not struggle in your web because it was my aim to get caught

But daddy longlegs, I feel that I’m finally growing weary

Of waiting to be consumed by you.

Give me the first taste, let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever

Darling, just start the chase, I’ll let you win, but you must make the endeavor.

Oh, your love give me a heart contusion

Adiago breezes fill my skin with sudden red

Your hungry flirt borders intrusion

I’m building memories on things we have not said

Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly my love, not nearly my love.

Give me the first taste, let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever

Darling, just start the chase, I’ll let you win, but you must make the endeavor.

* * * *

In times of great stress, Buffy had been known to chew on her fingernails. As she paced the cemetery, biting said appendages was out of the question. They’d already been bitten to the quick. There was no actual nail left, unless she wanted to draw blood.

She hadn’t heard from him all day and she didn’t know whether that was a good or a bad sign. What she did know was that there had been no sudden rush of moving vehicles to his house to pack up all his belongings and that was a good sign. Sure, she’d told him that they’d talk that night, but she’d waited by the phone all day anyway. Hoping, dreading, that it would ring.

What would she do if she’d just done the most stupid thing in her life? She realized that this would most definitely threaten their relationship as it stood. She also realized that if they kept going the way they had been, she would have gone crazy. They’d been walking blindfolded along a tightrope hoping that it would last forever. She knew that one of them had to open their eyes and make a decision as to where to step.

Buffy really, really, hated being an adult.

Finally it got too much and she all but ran out of the graveyard towards Giles’ apartment.

* * * *

The knock on the door was hesitant, light and scared, she felt ridiculous. Not once could she remember ever knocking like that at his house. It was usually a few careless raps given without thought, then when she’d gotten her own key she’d been able to let herself in, the knocks only for courtesy.

When he didn’t answer, she grew nervous. Was he even there? Had he gotten the note and decided he couldn’t even face her and her childish crush? Is that how he saw it? No, during the day she’d almost convinced herself that it could be true, but in the back of her mind she replayed a million different scenes, and she knew that he felt something for her. Something. She just couldn’t define what. He would never belittle her, though, she knew that.

Her mind then touched on something she really did not want to think about. What if he wasn’t being coy, what if something serious had happened, this was the hellmouth after all. He could be lying injured, unconscious, even… don’t even go there. Without thinking she’d unlocked the door and rushed through. Her brain, being as harsh as it wanted to be that night, threw up pictures of that same door covered in police tape, the tragic scene of Jenny’s death.

Doubt was replaced by a strong sense of guilt and self loathing. How could she even think he might feel the same way after all she’d put him through? How could he stand to be in the same hemisphere as her?

How could he leave the apartment dark and empty when he knew she was coming?

She took the stairs two at a time, seeing that an amber light flickered across the floor from beneath the door of his room. In the comparative darkness of the rest of the night, the light was warm and inviting. Opening the door, she listened with all of her being, but heard nothing except her own blood pulsing in her ears. A candle burned on the bedside table, with a rose placed next to it. But the room was empty.

A few steps into the room, to pick up the flower, and she heard the door close behind her. Footsteps came up and she felt hands settle on her shoulders. She was wearing his shirt again, having found that it contained the slightest hint of his aftershave, and she could feel the heat of his fingers through the material. It caused her to shiver. Almost as much as the deep, gravelly voice that came a little too close to her right ear.

"How long?"

"What?"

She moved to turn around, but the hands held her still. They rested heavily, but not uncomfortably, in fact she decided she liked them there.

"How long have you felt like that?"

Giles was still holding back, she could hear it in his voice, he needed her reassurance and she was all too willing to give it. But he had to ask for it, if he wanted to play games then so could she. Her own voice was light and innocent.

"Like what?"

She could feel him tense, yet she relaxed into his grasp. This was what she wanted, after all.

"Buffy…"

"Mm?"

His fingers tightened on her shoulders, his thumbs making slow circles on the back of her neck. That was nice, that was very nice. Hot breath tickled her right ear and she had to refrain from tilting her head to his lips. Goose bumps prickled into life.

"Buffy? I asked you…" Was that a tongue she had felt touch the end of her earlobe? "… a question."

She almost groaned as his fingers found the sensitive spots just above her collar bone and pressed firmly against the bone, rubbing circles in time with his thumbs at the back of her neck. Not once in her dreams had the feelings been this intense, and there had been many dreams, not one lacking in intensity. Right now she would have done anything for him not to stop what he was doing.

"Too long, Giles, too long."

"Good."

Lips descended on her neck, searing her skin, and she did groan. Her hands rose without her knowledge and clasped his head to her. His hands slid down her shoulders and over her arms, then back up and to the front of her neck where he began to unbutton the shirt. Lips devoured her neck, made their way up to her cheek and found her own. She turned her head and allowed him to devour her mouth, as she devoured his, hungry for it, needing it, calling it.

The sane part of Giles’ mind had stopped working the moment she’d walked in the door and he’d seen her wearing his shirt. Every move since then had been pure instinct. She felt so soft, that it was hard to imagine her having half the strength she needed to do what she did. The proverbial iron fist in satin gloves, it amazed him how delicate she really was.

He managed to undo the shirt and it fell to the ground. The sight of her bare back, impeded only by the thin material of a bra, made him want to run his hands over the curve of her spine, the arch of her hips, the swell of her backside as it disappeared into her pants. Actually, what he really wanted to do was probably illegal in twenty five states.

He settled for unclasping the bra and pulling her towards him, pressing the length of his body against hers. As in every other aspect of their lives, they fit together like jigsaw pieces, each complementing the other perfectly. She teasingly brushed herself against his already straining erection. She wasn’t playing fair.

"Do you know what you want from me yet?"

"I just want you."

The words were so simple, yet as he spoke them they exploded into his conscious. That’s all he wanted, that’s all he’d ever wanted. Anyway she came, that’s how he wanted her. The past years suddenly flew into focus as if he’d been experiencing them through a swirl of murky water, now he saw what should have been crystal clear, he saw what he had not allowed himself to see for as long as he could remember.

He loved her, he needed her, he wanted her. And anyone who didn’t approve could go to hell as far as he was concerned. There was nothing wrong with the way he felt, nothing at all.

Buffy lost her breath when Giles’s hand grabbed her and spun her around to face him. Gone was all the hesitation, all the uncertainty, he claimed her mouth with his own and his arms snaked themselves around her to press her fully against him. She could not help but run her hands up under his own shirt and feel the tender skin of his stomach.

Warm, hot, burning. These were all words that ran through her head as she gave herself into the discovery of his abdomen and chest, her fingers felt what she could not see, and every sensation was new to her. The feel of his chest as it rose with his breath, the rapid beat of his heart as it beat wildly, the pulsing of blood just under the surface of his skin, everything was deliciously new and novel. She felt like a child unwrapping a present.

Their tongues duelled for leadership while simultaneously yielding to the other. Their breaths mingled in hot gushes and their skin melted together, or so it seemed. Her conscious barely registered the hand that came up and ran through her hair, caressing her head, but she knew that if it left her she would cry.

"When will you realize? You already have me. You’ve had me for a while."

Breaking away from his mouth left her own cold, to keep it warm she lowered her head and tasted his neck, delighting at the mixture of salt and spicy cologne. Running her hands around to his back, she was delighted to discover that she could feel his heartbeat there as well. Everywhere she touched him she found evidence of his heat, his heart, his life.

A thought flashed through her mind and she tried to push it back. He’s alive.

Giles felt her tense, he felt her shudder and then cling to him harder. Her fingers drove so far into his flesh that he expected it to tear. It was almost physical, the wave that went through her. He placed a finger under her chin and raised her face to his. The tear in her eye shook him and he bent down to kiss it away.

"Buffy? What’s wrong? Should we stop?"

"No!" The desperate tone of her voice surprised them both. "No Giles, whatever you do, don’t stop. Promise me you’ll never let go."

He propelled her to the bed and sat her down, his arms around her and holding her close. His voice, only moments ago rough and deep, was now soft and gentle.

"Not until you tell me to."

At that moment, that very second, Buffy could not imagine ever telling him that. She shook violently and leaned into him. His arms felt so warm and large and gentle that she suddenly wanted to curl up and study them. Just his arms. Learn every inch of them, how they felt, what they looked like, tasted like. She felt foolish for her outburst, as if caught in some indiscretion, and tried to cover it up.

"I like the way you move." Her words came out softly, gently, like a question, afraid of her own feelings. Scared of admitting what she wanted.

"The way I…?"

She pulled the shirt off his shoulders and drank with her eyes what her hands had already seen.

"The way you breathe, up and down."

Realization dawned on him suddenly and he cursed himself for not working it out sooner. He bent down and took her bottom lip between his own, one hand caressing her cheek, the other holding her up. Looking straight into her eyes, he whispered into her mouth.

"I’m here Buffy, I’ll always be here for you."

It seemed they moved in slow motion then, falling down so that she lay on her back with him beside her, propped up on one arm on his side. His free hand ran up and down the length of one arm before moving in to trail paths of fire across her chest. His mouth was doing obscene things to hers and he pushed away all her thought.

The muscles on his back, she found, were lean and taut and extremely well developed. Just as she’d imagined them. He began to trail his lips over her neck, blowing warm breaths into the hollow of her throat. When her fingers ran over deep ridges that should not have been there, she whimpered but he brought his lips back to hers and stifled any comment she had been about to make.

His hands, having wandered down to cup her breasts and lift them lightly, as if to test their weight, began to really explore. Giles’ fingers were strong, firm and deft in their expeditions, pressing, stretching, stroking, finally coming to claim her right nipple and roll it between finger and thumb. It sent electric shocks down her spine. When she no longer thought she could take it, he abandoned the right breast for the left and began again.

Her own hands were running down the center of his spine and caressing his hips and back up the sides of his torso, making him groan into her mouth as much as she was in his. He looked into her eyes, grinning wickedly, before pining her hands above her head.

Forceful lips began to assault her neck, then down her shoulders and over her breasts, leaving fiery nerves sizzling and electrified. Buffy tried to break her hands free from his grasp, but he held them tight. Neither fooled for a minute about the fact that if she really wanted to be free, she could have him drawn and quartered in less than twenty seconds. Knowing that she would not be able to stand it much longer she tried to get him to move it along, but he was taking things slowly, leisurely, not listening to her frustrated urgings.

"You’re evil, do you know that?"

"I think the word you’re looking for is efficient, you’re just impatient."

She growled at him and he laughed back. As he moved his whole body down hers, he bought her hands down to her sides and held them tightly. She was writhing as he licked at her flat stomach and the smooth skin underneath it.

"You’re blushing!" He sounded surprised and delighted.

"You can’t even see my face." She lifted her head to look down at him, his face turned up to grin at her.

"I wasn’t speaking about your face."

His words, she was sure, made the whole of her body infuse with hot blood. Boiling liquid rushed to the edges of her skin and his mouth was taking no pains to cool it. His voice held a slight growling quality that sent her ears searching for more. What she wanted was to feel him, to free her hands and run them everywhere over his skin. To taste him with her fingers. But he held her still. It was driving her wild. Suddenly her eyes grew wide.

"I didn’t know you could open jeans with your teeth."

"My teeth can do a lot of things you don’t know about."

Giles was rewarded by deep laughter and found himself being dragged up to meet her. She kissed him deeply and ran her hands down his back and over his rear, returning to run fingers through his hair, pressing his head down, close to hers.

"I certainly hope so."

He drew his lips back but left his forehead touching hers, so that they were eye to eye, he nuzzled her nose with his own.

"Are you sure? Because, if you aren’t, we could stop…"

"Giles? If I was any more sure, I would burst. Now be quiet and ravish me."

"Yes Ma’am."

She lifted her head and kissed him again as she let her hands wander, over the muscles of his chest, through the wiry hairs there, twirling and pulling lightly, testing their boundaries. Then down over the taut muscles of his abdomen and stomach, her fingers pausing momentarily before undoing the pants and pushing them over his hips and down his thighs.

"You do like to take charge, don’t you?"

Whispered words down her neck, they tickled her skin. Buffy placed her mouth next to his ear and whispered her answer lightly, barely breathing. It was Giles’ turn to blush.

Taking advantage of his stunned demeanor, she threw him on his back and straddled his now naked thighs. Looking down at him, she breathed in. Countless times when they had trained, she had felt how strong he really was, how toned he kept himself. It was different now, though, to see his body laid down in front of her. Beautiful.

Thoughtful, she let one finger trace a path over his body, feeling every crevasse and hollow, every dint and bulge. Giles raised his arms behind his head and rested on his hands, he let her study him and watched in amusement as she took it all so seriously. There was a furrow in her brow that made him want to kiss it.

Buffy was awestruck at the all over beauty of the male body, this male body in particular. It reacted to her touch in breathtaking ways. If she pushed, the skin would pale and then redden when she lifted her finger, the blood rushing to refill the vacated space. If she barely touched him with a fingernail, tiny little bumps would appear in its wake. If she circled his nipples they would harden. If she lent down and took one of those nipples into her mouth, it would harden even more. And his breath would catch in his throat.

She was going to kill him. She was going to torture him to death here and now. How ever would she explain it to the insurance company? Only moments ago he had accused her of being impatient, now he felt that he could not wait a second longer, he was going to embarrass himself.

Kiss him, she thought to herself, taste him, whatever you do, don’t think about the pooling warmth between your legs, about the little electric shock waves that are making your toes curl. One thing came to her, she was severely overdressed. He lay beneath her almost naked, and she was still trapped in her jeans which were exceeding tight and restrictive. She sat straight up, her hands on her hips.

"What is wrong with this picture?"

For one second he could feel his heart plunging deeper than it ever had before, then he caught the devilish grin on her face and the laughter in her eyes. He nestled back down into the pillows and shrugged casually.

"There’s way too many articles of clothing here."

With that she shuffled herself out of her jeans and settled back down to the business of licking him to death. He really didn’t mind. The feel of the skin on the inside of her thighs holding his legs down was searing. They had to act, fast.

"Buffy? I…"

"Ooh! Lookie what I found!"

And that was the end of his sentence as he knew exactly what she had found and she lavished it with more attention than anything that evening. Her touch was hesitant, yet firm, and he felt himself growing nearer and nearer to his own climax. Control, old man, he told himself, control. Reaching down he took hold of her shoulders and dragged her back up to him.

Finding herself flipped onto her back, yet again, Buffy could not help but giggle. As Giles began to kiss her neck in earnest, forcefully and hungrily, his hands making purposeful advances down her abdomen, she spoke into the air.

"You know, one of us has to stay on top for this."

"Ha!" He laughed into her flushed, salty skin. "And here I am. I guess I win."

He pushed his frame between her legs and she wrapped them around his thighs, dragging an ankle down the back of his knee and down his calf. It was a deliciously torturous act. Their mouths were joined, his hands were resting by the side of her head, creating a shield around her, their bodies locked at every point. Their eyes stared into each other, drowning in each other, as the moment came.

He pressed into her at the exact moment she lifted her hips upwards, at first it was a slow, fluid movement, the two of them, each caressing the other with their entire bodies. Over and over again, then like a slow building tide their passion drove them to faster, deeper rhythms.

Waves of hard hitting passion crashed over Buffy like never before, one after the other. She clung to him as every nerve she knew she owned, and some she hadn’t, began to burn with flames that didn’t hurt so much as flickered and sizzled. One thing Angel had never understood, even china dolls liked it rough sometimes.

He was going to explode, literally and figuratively. Everything he had ever dreamed about was finally coming true. Not only did he have her, she wanted him to have her. She wanted him. She loved him. She was his. And he had always been hers. He groaned her name into her mouth.

Afterwards Buffy lay on her back breathing hard. She didn’t know what had happened, scratch that, she knew exactly what had happened. Three times. Her brain refused to work and her body was a mess of shivering jelly. Her limbs felt like liquid, her calves ached in a very good way and her shoulders were tingling. She didn’t think she could move even if she wanted to.

He was propped up again, staring down at her dazed expression. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Giles called her name softly, making her turn her head to face him, her eyes were glazed over but they shone when they looked at him. He kept her gaze as his hands stroked her body gently, bringing her down slowly. Every now again a tremble ripped through her.

"So?" His voice was thick and heavy with lust. "How did you like the ‘first taste’?"

"Ung…" Came the dazed reply. He laughed.

"I take it that’s a good answer?"

"Only if," She seemed to come back down to reality, "by the term ‘first’ you mean this will happen again."

"I’d rather hoped it would."

She smiled dreamily and kissed him gently on the end of his nose. Snuggling up against him, her head nestling in his neck, under his chin, she sighed and fell into a deep sleep. Not before, however, mumbling almost inaudibly.

"I love you, Rupert Giles."

END