"Alls I'm sayin' is that I did a lot in the name of the greater good tonight and I think I deserve a reward."

"I shudder to think what you could possibly have in mind."

He trailed after her into the library, watching discontentedly as she settled on the table, with a chair directly next to her that was purposefully designed for such a thing. Her feet were planted in the seat and he despaired a little inside. Would this lot never use furniture for its intended purpose? She looked horribly pleased with herself and, in truth, she'd done terribly well. The ashes of six vampires they left behind said so, and a small seed of pride was blossoming in his heart for her. Or, at least it would if she didn't insist on speaking and breaking the moment. He tried to stem his annoyance and head this off at the pass. Having a young woman around was not a new experience, but there was already too much about her that reminded him of darker days, far too headstrong for his good.

"There's a saying about accomplishment being its own reward, Faith," he ventured, though it was clearly a waste of breath before it was ever spoken. He sighed. "What on Earth could you consider a reward? I will not condone under aged drinking."

Though she was eighteen, that was still below legal drinking age in America and he intended to stick to that.

"Nuts to that! I want something real."

She laughed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. The similarly dark eyes wandered over him, taking him in in a sense that was alarmingly effective at making him feel vulnerable. He nearly gathered his jacket a little tighter around his body, hiding behind layers of tweed. The question, when it came, was just as appalling as he imagined it would be.

"When's the last time someone got up on that?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"When's the last time someone fucked you, G?"

"I completely fail to understand how you could possibly think this is an appropriate discussion for the two of us to be having. You're very young and I'm -"

"I may be young, but I'm not exactly young." She let her leather jacket slither from her shoulders onto the dark wooden table.

"Regardless," he sighed, "it is not a subject I'm allowing on the table for discussion."

"I get it."

As she nodded he breathed out a small sigh of relief, turning to get something appropriate for them both, like the pot of tea he was desperately craving to calm his sensible British nerves. He put the pot on his hot plate, warming the water with two mugs at the ready. He didn't know how she liked it, never having spent much time alone with her before, and he pushed a hand through his hair before returning to ask.

The mug crashed to the ground from nerveless fingers and splintered, though he wasn't paying a whit of attention to it or its new state of being.

She was sitting in front of him on the table, where he left her, only her clothes were in a pile off to the side. One leg was propped up on the chair, the other dangling off the side of the table. She was leaning back a little, braced on one arm, and the other was, God help him, the other was…

A low moan punctuated the air between them. His or hers, he couldn't tell.

"Faith."

The sound was pathetic but he couldn't muster any will to make it louder or more authoritative. It came out questioning, helpless, in a tone he didn't recognize. He let out a shuddering breath. Against his will he quite suddenly found his pants to be two sizes too tight with no way to hide the burgeoning erection. The words to make her stop drifted in his mind and he was unable to hold onto them for even a few seconds at a time, let alone try to articulate them.

"What are you doing?"

She raised her head and looked at him, as if she hadn't already been perfectly aware that he was standing by, watching as her hands searched for self pleasure.

"You're the Watcher, right?" She asked, at once a coy seductress. "So watch."

Two fingers plunged into her dripping hole causing a deep moan in her throat. It was beyond torture; the erection throbbing between his legs was all but begging for attention he didn't dare give it. It took every ounce of his resolve not to go to her and fill her to the brim. All of his better sense may have left him but thank God he at least managed to restrain himself from that. Propriety was still having its small stand but it was in a losing battle against shock and lust.

"Stop this." He managed pitifully.

"Make me," came the reply, an unmistakable challenge. "Make me come." She amended.

He swallowed hard and blessedly did not move one way or another.

"I don't know what you're playing at, Faith, but there are rules. Étiquette. What's happening here is -"

"Is what, G?"

"It's…"

"I'm waiting."

Her fingers were still moving inside her body, straying up to toy with her clit for a while before sliding in again. Her breathing was ragged from her exertions, moans punctuating her statements. They filled the air in a thick fog, clouding his senses and making protests harder to form. He was not this man, not to be seduced by a girl that had much more in common with him than he would ever like to admit. A girl more than half his age. A girl that...that…

She came with a loud cry, a cry of his name that filled the library's usual quiet with rich, pleasured sound. The sound of his name on her lips like that thrilled beyond measure, though he'd never admit to it aloud, under pain of torture. Her hips moved erratically with her hand's movements calling attention to the look of her clenching around the invading digits with a Slayer's control. He closed his eyes at long last, trying to block it out of his head. Blessedly he managed to turn his back on her, but not to leave the room.

"You've had your fun, Faith. Put your clothes on and go home."

"Aren't you Watchers supposed to be all full service or something?"

"I've already done far more than I ever should have. I will not violate you in such a way. Go home, Faith, for Christ's sake."

Her feet touched the floor, he could hear it and silently begged her not to come any closer. She didn't.

"Are you sure, G? We could have a little fun. I could drag you into the stacks for a good time; no one would ever have to know."

"I'd know." He shook his head, heard the rustle of clothing. Thank God. "You are young, exotic, alluring, and beautiful. Someday you'll make some young man very happy but here, now, I am not the one to do this thing. Lord, you're hardly older than a child! You can't possibly want someone like me."

"But I do." The words came out quiet but assured.

"No, truly, you don't. And what's more it's inappropriate. I won't explain to you all the myriad reasons why but believe me when I tell you that you will look back on this day and thank me for keeping my distance and sending you home."

"We'll see."

The footfalls of her leaving the library were a symphony of relief to his ears. She was running, the doors swinging wildly on her hinges as she passed and only once they had slowed did he let out the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding and look to where she'd been. He could still see her there, hear her moaning his name. His solid phallus said he'd remember that well into the night until he could take a cold shower or will it away. He went to go fetch a broom and swept up the mug's debris and then cleaned all traces of her from the table's surface. By the time he fetched his jacket from his office to go home the trembling had stopped. By the time he managed to unlock his front door and stumbled to the liquor cabinet his erection had managed to subside in half. The healthy tumbler of scotch he poured was sure to take care of the rest of it.