Goodnight, Buffy
By SecondSlayer

Title: Goodnight, Buffy?
Author: SecondSlayer
Disclaimer: I deny all knowledge. It wasn't me. The voices made me do it. I was just borrowing them. I'll have them dry-cleaned. Joss, ME, yada yada.
Spoilers: None, really, could be pretty much any time, but it's definitely post-Angel.
Summary: A half-asleep couple get closer. Similar to a dream I had, I thought I'd share.

Giles' first thought as he woke was *warm*. His next thought was of the location of the warm. Along his back, his side, and at his groin. After a moment, his brain put together the information that there was a woman in bed with him, and that she had a firm grasp on his penis. And her hand was moving. He groaned softly, and almost imperceptibly began to move against her.

Then memory joined the party, and informed him that last night he had been put to bed by his guest. The one who was using up the sofa where he would usually sleep when Buffy was staying. And that Buffy had been put to bed with him, in satin pyjamas. Facing away from him. The other side of the bed. Satin. Against his back, the back of his legs. Sudden realisation hit. *Buffy was wanking him in her sleep.* And she was starting to grind her pelvis against his arse in respose to his own slight movement.

What to do? She had to be asleep, if he tried too hard to move her hand, he'd wake her, and that would be disastrous. She'd be horrified by what she was doing, and the fact that he knew. If she awoke, he'd just pretend to be still asleep.

Buffy made a contented humming noise and started to rub her thumb across the head, her fingers still working at the shaft. *I'm asleep I'm asleep I'm asleep* he thought, desperately.

Buffy had woken a little earlier than Giles. Her first thought had been *warm, safe*. Finding herself pressed against something that made her feel just that, she wrapped her arm around it, and her fingers landed on soft, warm, exposed, flesh. Flesh with little hairs on that she couldn't help playing with. She followed the hairs down, as they got thicker, and slid under the waistband of Giles' pyjamas. She nuzzled into the warm cottony back a little as her fingertips found something more interesting than hair. Warmer than anything surrounding it, it had a beautifully soft texture, but was hard if squeezed, it twitched as her fingertips brushed certain sensitive spots. She curled her hand around the shaft and moved her hand slowly up and down, enjoying the feel of it under her palm. She heard a change in Giles' breathing and at that moment, she realised that it was Giles' body she was curled round, Giles' bed she was in, Giles who she was really enjoying... she was enjoying giving Giles a hand job.

She could stop, but she might wake him up. The slow strokes were keeping him relaxed. He'd started moving against her hand, which was... gratifying. She knew she was doing this right. Yes, that's all this was, harmless practice. If she could get a reaction out of a sleeping Giles, she could do this right for any man. She started to grind her hips in time with him, subconsciously, and thought she felt him get just a little harder.

Could she make him come like this? She liked that idea. She ran her thumb across the tip. So long as he didn't wake up... but if he did, she'd pretend that she was still asleep.

Her hand dipped lower, to gently fondle his balls. He drew in a shuddering breath, let it out in a contented sigh, moved his legs a little to give her better access. She shifted a little to allow for his shifing weight and after a few minutes he was on his back, both her hands working on him, one along his shaft, the other at his balls, or stroking his thighs, occasionally rubbing across his stomach. She pulled back his foreskin, took her hand away, and he moaned in protest. Her fingers returned slick with saliva, rubbed gently across the sensitive, exposed head.

There was, he realised, no way anyone could be so ... *oh god that's nice*... precise in their sleep. He let his hand wander sideways, found her groin and stroked it gently, applied a little pressure as her legs parted for him. She whimpered. He ran the hand along her thigh, squeezed her, and she squeezed him, began to move more purposefully.

"Harder" he whispered, without thinking. She didn't react to it, except to do as he asked, moving her hand faster, she scratched her nails along his inner thigh, squeezed his balls, rocked against his hand which had returned to her groin, applying motionless pressure to her clitoris. Her breathing became short, uneven, noisy gasps. He gripped the sheets beside him, whispered "You should stop, before..." and she buried her head against his shoulder as his trembling fingers brought her close to her own orgasm. He pulled his pyjama bottoms up over himself, and as she nuzzled into his side, her legs trembling, he tried to hold his breath as he came.

She was still shaking, his hand had been jerking involuntarily as orgasm gripped him. Her hands were still stroking him, one of them already covered in semen, but she didn't seem to have noticed. He brought his other hand round to stroke a breast, gently circling a nipple through the fabric. It was enough for her to reach orgasm herself, and she let go, both of her control and of Giles, but didn't take her hands out of his pyjamas. He reached for the tissues kept next to the bed, cleaned her hands off gently before cleaning himself a little and heading for the bathroom. As he stood, she rolled over, back to her original place, and hugged a pillow tightly, apparently still asleep.

When he returned, his pyjamas changed, and slipped back into bed beside her, she was looking at him.

"It's three am, where did you go?"

"Too much tea," he said calmly, and settled himself on his stomach. She nodded, and in a few minutes he was starting to doze off.

"Goodnight, Buffy."

"Yes," she mumbled, half-asleep. "Very."

(hopefully) to be continued ;)