After the others had left the shop, Giles slowly moved toward Willow, trying to be measured in his movements. He wanted to sweep her up into his arms and kiss her passionately, but he didn't think it would be wise. Hell, he probably wouldn't even be able to do it physically considering his recent recovery from surgery. And most troubling, he wasn't sure that she would welcome it. He had hurt her – badly – and he didn't know if she would be able to trust him again.
Willow crossed an arm in front of her and brought the other hand to her mouth, chewing on her thumbnail. She saw Giles looking at her as he approached and she pulled her thumb away from her mouth, as if she had been caught doing something bad. She wrapped her arms around herself as though she were freezing.
"Willow – " Giles began.
"Are you leaving?" she interjected.
Giles stopped in his tracks, a few feet from the witch. "What?"
"Are you leaving?" she repeated, her voice thick with pain. "Xander told me you said you were going to leave after you got better. And you're better." She sounded so young in that moment, so innocent. Nervously, her thumb went back to her lips.
Giles' shoulders fell. Foolishly, he hadn't considered that Xander would relay any of their conversation to Willow. "No, Willow," he replied quietly. "I'm not leaving." He hesitated. "…Unless you want me to."
Willow shook her head, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She was trying to calm herself, but the more she tried, the more she felt herself spinning out of control. Seeing Giles again, Spike coming in the shop, the tea, the finger under her chin…it was all too much.
Giles crossed the distance between them and encircled Willow in his arms. He couldn't stop himself; he needed to hold her. The dam burst and Willow let go. At first, the sobs were incoherent, but soon she began to talk to Giles, her voice muffled in his suit jacket.
"Why did you turn me away? You said you loved me, but you told me to leave. You wouldn't talk to me, you wouldn't answer me." Her voice shook violently, but she continued. "Why were you so mean to me? The things you said to me when I came to see you…"
Giles held Willow close. "I know, I'm so sorry. I've made so many mistakes, I don't know where to start." He kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair. "I've been a prat. I took my self-loathing and my guilt out on you. You didn't deserve any of that."
Willow sniffed. "You sound like Doctor Gruden."
"Well, she's the one who's been helping me sort myself out, so I supposed it makes sense.
Willow pulled back a little and looked up at Giles. "You've been going to see Dana?"
Giles replied, "Yes, she really is quite good. You had such a good experience with her and Doctor Lane recommended her so highly, I thought I'd try to get some help. Is that…are you alright with that?"
"Did she tell you anything about me?" Willow whispered, afraid of the answer.
"No, no, of course not. She would never do that. It would be a violation of doctor-client privilege. She would never reveal your secrets to me, nor would she reveal mine to you."
Willow exhaled. "Then I'm alright with it."
Giles moved Willow out to arm's length and looked her in the eyes. "Willow, I want you to know, I truly am sorry. I've been a right prick and an idiot to boot. I don't deserve your forgiveness. If you slapped me in the face and told me you never wanted to see me again, I would understand."
"Shut up, Giles," Willow whispered, and then she was kissing him, her arms wrapped around him, her tears dampening his cheeks.
He reciprocated, and walked them over to the counter, Willow hopping up to sit on the glass as she straddled Giles. He pulled her to him, having to tilt his head up to reach her mouth now that she sat so high.
"I don't want to be without you anymore," Willow breathed, pushing Giles' jacket off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor.
Giles gathered up Willow's long skirt and pushed it up to her hips, revealing her bare legs. "I'll never let you go again," Giles promised, pressing himself to her and recapturing her mouth with his. Sliding his hands under her sweater, he explored the soft expanse of her back, then brought one hand around to caress her breast. He wanted nothing more than to take her here, right in the middle of the shop. He forced himself to step away from the woman he loved.
"No, not here. Not like this."
Willow's face contorted in pain. He voice came to him soft and bruised. "But Giles, I want you."
His heart ached. "Willow, I want you, too." He grasped her hand. "Let me take you to bed."
His meaning clear, Willow smiled with relief and hopped down from the counter, her skirt cascading around her legs. She grabbed her things and followed him out the door to his car.
The drive over to his apartment seemed endless. Willow felt like a taut string waiting to be plucked. When they finally arrived, Giles insisted on opening the passenger side door and helping Willow out. She rolled her eyes at his outdated chivalry, but adored him for it nonetheless.
As she entered his house, Willow recalled the last time she had been there. Her hand went to her mouth involuntarily, covering it as she gaped. "Giles," she breathed, "I said such awful things to you the last time I was here."
Giles closed the door behind them and turned on a lamp. "No worse than what I said to you." His mouth was set in a grim line. "We don't have to talk about it right now."
"I had to look up what 'slag' meant, you know." Willow's mouth quirked into a wan smile.
Giles' heart sank. He had been hurt by Willow's confession about sleeping with Spike, and he had not responded with dignity and grace.
"I don't want to talk about that," Giles said, placing his hand gently on Willow's cheek.
"But I…with Spike…"
In the lamplight, Giles' eyes flashed with pain and jealousy. "I'm trying to let go of that, Willow. I'm trying to be fine with it."
Willow met Giles' gaze, her own expression twisted with guilt and something else, something Giles couldn't identify.
Giles smoothed her eyebrow with the pad of his thumb. "Do you want me to be fine with it?"
Willow considered the question. How would she feel if Giles didn't care about her sleeping with Spike? Would that be better than him being angry?
"No," she finally replied, "not really."
"Alright," Giles replied, his tone suddenly even. She had heard him use that voice before. Her back stiffened.
Giles helped Willow out of her coat and placed it along with her bag on the couch.
"Wait here until I call for you." Before she could respond, Giles was already on his way upstairs. She noticed he was moving slowly, probably because he was still healing from his injury. She felt grief that she had not been there to help him when he was stuck at home, but she quickly reminded herself that he had been the one to dismiss her. Twice.
Willow waited in Giles' living room, listening to the sound of Giles moving around up in his bedroom. After a few minutes, he called for her and she climbed the steps up to the loft.
As she arrived at the top of the stairs, the first thing Willow noticed was that the space was lit entirely by candlelight. In the flicker of the flames, she saw Giles standing before her, next to the bed. He had discarded his suit jacket, waistcoat, and tie, and the sleeves of his button-down shirt were rolled up. She approached him, her hands reaching for his belt to begin undressing him.
"No," Giles ordered. Willow's hands froze.
Giles sat on the edge of the bed. "Come here," he directed her. She did.
"Bend over my lap, face down." She swallowed nervously, but moved to Giles. As delicately as she could, she positioned herself as instructed, her hips resting on his thighs.
"If you want me to stop, say the word 'stop'. Is that clear?"
Her voice shaking with anxiety and anticipation, she exhaled, "yes."
"Why are you bent over in my lap right now, Willow?"
She wasn't sure what answer he wanted. "Because I need to be punished."
"Why do you need to be punished?"
"Because I…I…" The thing she had so readily yelled at Giles weeks before was suddenly impossible to utter.
"You what, Willow?" Giles pulled the waistband of her skirt down over her hips and discarded the garment on the floor.
"I had sex with Spike."
"Yes. You fucked Spike." He brought his palm down against her right cheek, eliciting a squeak from the witch.
"I imagine that fucking was not the first activity you did with Spike. What did you do first? Did you kiss him?" He struck her again.
"Yes!" she squealed, her tender flesh smarting from the sting of Giles' hand.
"What else?" Giles asked, his breath uneven.
"He held my arms over my head." Giles directed another strike at Willow's ass, leaving a pink handprint on one cheek.
"And?"
Willow squirmed, stinging from the spanking but far more uncomfortable about telling the details of her tryst with Spike. Another smack urged her to speak.
"He took my dress off. I wasn't wearing a bra. He put his…he sucked…"
Willow's face was flushed with embarrassment. She wasn't sure why it was so hard to say the words, especially considering what she had already done with Giles and intended to do with him in the near future.
Giles' rasping voice egged her on. "Tell me, Willow." He struck her behind again, harder this time.
Willow let out a grunt, then replied, "He sucked on my nipples. I could feel through his jeans that he was hard." Another smack, then another.
"Did you taste him, too?"
Willow nodded, but Giles delivered a blow to her backside. She cried out, the cumulative sting of the spanking beginning to hurt more than a little.
"I did! I sucked his cock. But it felt so good that he made me stop so he could fuck me."
Willow found that, underneath the shame and discomfort of her punishment, she was growing increasingly aroused. Whether it was the spanking or the retelling of her encounter with Spike, she could not begin to guess.
Giles continued his assault on the soft flesh of Willow's backside. Her skin was bright pink, the color darkening a little with each blow. He paused and removed Willow's panties, which he was pleased to note were very wet. He caressed her bare ass.
"And how did he fuck you? Was he on top? Did he take you from behind?"
Willow groaned. "He…he sat on the couch – " Before she could finish her sentence, Giles slid two fingers inside her. She let out a long, low moan. Her hips moved in time with Giles' strokes. Suddenly, he removed his hand. Willow whimpered and squirmed in protest.
"Continue," Giles ordered, huskiness in his voice.
Willow kept squirming. She couldn't even remember what she was supposed to be telling Giles. Something about Spike…
A brutal strike to her bare ass shook her out of her reverie. She cried out.
"He was on the couch! He sat on the couch and I straddled him. I rode him until he came inside me."
Giles slapped Willow's left cheek, then her right, the strokes coming more quickly now. Whatever jealousy he had felt had dissipated when he saw Willow writhe and moan under his hand. In fact, he might have to thank Spike for this later.
"Did you come? Did Spike make you climax, Willow?"
Willow bit her lip and nodded, then remembered herself and admitted aloud, "Yes, he did."
Giles smacked her ass once more, then returned his attentions to the wet juncture between her legs. He delicately grazed his finger up and down her slit. Willow bucked and grunted, trying to force him to apply more pressure there.
"Lie still," Giles ordered, a threat in his tone.
Willow controlled herself as best she could, although she continued to tremble and whine.
"Do you remember, Willow, what I told you in the training room, when I teased you just like this?"
All Willow could do was moan. The time for coherence had passed.
"I told you," Giles continued, "that your orgasms belonged to me. That they were mine to give – or to withhold – as I saw fit."
He continued stroking her slit as Willow's body burned. She felt as though she might die here, and it was a fair price to pay if only she could come.
"But you gave one of them to Spike. You allowed him to make you come, did you not?"
Willow dreaded where this was going. She grunted in the affirmative, unable to form words.
"I'm afraid, sweet Willow," Giles breathed, his voice rumbling with desire, "that I can't let you come right now."
Willow whimpered, shifting underneath Giles' tantalizing ministrations.
"I would have liked to, but unfortunately, I have to withhold this orgasm from you. This is your penance. Do you understand?"
Willow began to cry. The urge to come was so strong, and her mind was mush. She was wild with desire and longing. "Please, Giles, please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She turned her face and twisted to look back at him. His face was contorted with desire. She looked in his eyes and continued to beg. "Please, please just let me come. I'm sorry. I'll never do it again. I'll do anything you ask, please just let me finish."
Calmly, brutally, Giles continued his soft strokes. "I know you'll do anything I ask, Willow. I know you will."
Willow's tear-streak face stared up at him in total submission. In that moment, she truly gave all of herself to him. He loved her more then than he realized was possible.
Suddenly, Giles shifted his hand and moved to rub Willow's clit. He pressed into it with two fingers, swirling them around in a tight circle. Willow called his name, bucking her hips furiously. He had to hold her tight with his free hand just to keep her from toppling off the end of the bed. After only a few seconds, she stiffened and cried out, her orgasm racking her body.
As her body slowly relaxed, Giles gently stroked her back and whispered loving things to her. He moved her so she was sitting upright in his lap and he held her to him. He wiped the tears from her face and held her until her breathing was slow and even.
"Giles?" Her voice was small and quavering.
"Yes, Willow?" He looked down and brushed her hair behind her ear.
She grasped at his shirt with feeble fingers, twisting her hand around the fabric. "Thank you," she whispered. She nestled further into his embrace, feeling so completely loved. Somewhere in her addled mind, she plucked the term "aftercare" from her BDSM research.
Willow had almost begun to fall asleep when she shifted slightly and realized that Giles was still extremely aroused. Feeling him pressed against her gave her a jolt all the way up her spine. She lifted her head and looked up at Giles; he returned her gaze with fire in his eyes. She reached up a hand, cupping his cheek in her hand, and he leaned into her touch, sighing at the warmth of her fingers.
A shadow of worry crossed Willow's face.
"What's wrong?" asked Giles.
Willow knew that if she spoke the words aloud, the tears would come again, and she was sick of crying. She cast her eyes down and stared at the buttons on Giles' shirt.
Lifting her chin to bring her eyes back up to his, Giles spoke softly. "Willow, tell me."
She sat up and kissed his cheek, then his mouth. The kiss deepened and soon their tongues were mingling, Willow's fingers entangling themselves in Giles' hair. He brought his hand up to caress her face and felt moisture there. Gently breaking the kiss, Giles wiped the tears from Willow's face and looked into her eyes, questioning her silently. She said nothing.
"Please," he whispered.
Willow pressed her eyes closed, trying to stop the tears that were coming whether she wanted them or not. She nuzzled close to Giles and placed her head near his heart so she could hear it beating.
"Tonight," she began slowly, "you love me. You want me. You're happy with me. But tomorrow, you're going to toss me out, you're going to hate yourself and convince yourself that I'm better off without you. I can't bear that again. I won't survive it."
"Oh, Willow," was all he managed to say. He gripped her to him as though she might disappear at any moment. He felt her despair, her pain, her fear wash over him as he cradled her in his arms. His guilt was bottomless.
Finally, he was able to find the words. "Willow, I know that I've betrayed your trust. I've hurt you in ways that I never intended or imagined. You have no reason to believe me right now, to trust in me again. But I promise to always be honest with you, to tell you everything."
He took a deep breath and continued. "You're right that I'll hate myself tomorrow, but I hate myself today, too." He could feel her tense in his embrace and he hurried to make his point. "But it's not because I think it's wrong to love you. It's because I've wounded you so deeply. I'm not going to leave you, Willow." He spoke the words with urgency. "In fact, I'm going to spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you. If you'll let me."
Fresh tears streaked Willow's face as sobs rocked her body. Giles gathered her up as close to him as he could make her. He held her that way for endless minutes as she slowly recovered.
Meekly, Willow reached for Giles' shirt buttons and began to unfasten them, opening his shirt. His body tensed a little when he felt what she was doing. He looked down and saw that she had gotten as far as she could in this position. With enormous care, he shifted her over to sit next to him on the edge of the bed, then gripped her face in his hands and kissed her fervently, feeling his desire build for her again.
Fumbling with the remaining buttons, Willow eventually liberated Giles from his shirt, which he doffed along with his undershirt. Willow hesitantly stretched her fingertips towards the curls of hair on his chest. He was crisscrossed with scars, some newer than others, the recent wound on his abdomen still evident. She traced some of the older scars reverently, then pressed her lips to his skin, feeling the hair tickle her face.
Giles inhaled as Willow kissed his chest. Over the course of their limited encounters, he had been the one doing things to her throughout most of that time; it was intoxicating seeing what she would do to him. He looked down at her and saw that she was still dressed from the top up. "Willow," he called to her, "wait. I want to see you."
She lifted her head and met his eyes, a quizzical expression on her face. He kissed her sweetly. "I want to see all of you." She understood his meaning then, and blushed. It was foolish, she knew, considering everything that had happened, but he had never seen her naked and she was scared that he wouldn't like what he saw. Despite that fear, her desire for him was urging her forward, so she stood and faced him.
In one swift motion, she pulled her sweater over her head and let it drop to the hardwood floor. She reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting that fall away, too. For a moment, she stood with her hands tucked under her chin, her forearms covering her breasts. But Giles' desirous eyes gave her courage, and she let her arms fall to her sides.
"Oh," Giles breathed. He stood up and kissed her, wrapping her in his arms. He felt her nipples harden against his bare chest. She moved her hands to his belt, eventually undoing the buckle and pulling the leather free of the belt loops. Her fingers surprisingly sure, she unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, feeling the hardness within. Giles looped his thumbs inside his pants and boxer briefs, sliding them down and discarding them without a second thought. A quick removal of socks and he, too, was naked for his lover.
Willow's fingers wrapped gingerly around Giles' cock and began to stroke it slowly. He let out a guttural sound that made her question for a moment whether she was hurting him or pleasing him. His mouth on hers let her know which it was. After breaking the kiss, Willow dropped to her knees and took Giles into her mouth, using her lips and tongue to apply pressure to the most sensitive areas.
Giles, for his part, had been on edge for the better part of an hour and knew he wouldn't be able to handle much more of this. His voice gruff, he called to her. "Willow, get on the bed."
She obeyed, swiftly positioning herself in the center of the bed, sitting on her haunches. Giles followed, kneeling opposite her. After discarding his glasses on the nightstand, he picked her up swiftly and swung her legs around so he could lay her flat on her back. As he did so, he found her nipple with his mouth and tasted her. His lips moved down Willow's body, savoring the feel of her ribcage, her soft stomach, her hips. When he got to his destination, he positioned himself between her legs, draping her thighs over his shoulders.
Giles didn't hold back as he eagerly lavished Willow's pussy with attention. As she writhed and bucked beneath him, he held her hips firm; he was relentless. She tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled his head closer, greedy for him.
His need for her overpowering, Giles released his grip on Willow's hips and moved himself up the bed, leaning over Willow. Brushing her hair off her face, he looked in her eyes. "Tell me," he begged her.
"Giles, I need you," Willow pleaded. "I need you now."
Without hesitation, Giles took her. Soon, they found a rhythm, moans filling the air of the candlelit room. He tried to be gentle and controlled, but it was hard to be reverent when he desired her so much. For her part, Willow seemed to be fighting the same battle. Soon, the side of patience and tenderness lost, and the lovers were moving as if their very lives were in the balance. Feeling himself getting close, Giles leaned back until his torso was almost vertical, then moved one hand to stroke Willow's swollen clit.
Stars exploded behind Willow's eyes as she tumbled headlong into an orgasm. The sight of Willow wriggling on the bed combined with the sensation of her pulsing around him led Giles to his own release. Moments later, the pair lay on the bed, sweating and breathing hard.
Giles reached out with his fingertips, feeling the space between them until he grasped Willow's hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. Willow's voice eventually broke the silence. "I've never had two before," she said, her voice full of awe. Giles grinned and rolled onto his side to face her. He reached across with his free hand and pulled her to him, kissing her languidly, savoring the experience. Now that they had exhausted their sexual energy – at least, for now – they were in no rush. The post-coital fog lent everything a pleasant haziness, a feeling rather distinct from the sharp intellectual focus in which they spent most of their time.
After a quick rinse in the shower and several more minutes of leisurely kissing, Willow suddenly piped up with a question.
"Hey," she began, "why didn't my hair go black?"
"Mmm?" Giles murmured, still fuzzy from the night's events.
"Well, when Oz and I were kissing at the shop a few weeks ago, I felt myself…getting dark. My hair even changed colors for a minute. And the same thing happened when you kicked me out after you got home from the hospital. But it didn't happen tonight. And it didn't happen with…when…it didn't happen any other times either."
Giles' analytical mind kicked into gear. "It's an interesting question. The two experiences certainly seem different. How were you feeling during each incident?"
"Well, pretty much the way you'd expect, I guess. With Oz, I was…" She swallowed, the coughed. "I was turned on. But obviously that's not what I was feeling when you told me to leave."
"Hrm," Giles grunted. "I don't know. I imagine there's something the two moments had in common."
Willow bit her lip, deep in thought. "With Oz," she recalled, "I was afraid of what it would mean if we got back together. I didn't really want to sleep with him, at least I didn't think it was a good idea, but we just…we couldn't stop. I couldn't help myself."
"Alright," Giles said encouragingly, "what was your thought process the other time?" He couldn't bring himself to say "the time when I cruelly dismissed you from this house because my self-loathing made me blow up our friendship."
"I was upset, of course. I was caught off-guard. I felt myself getting really angry. Like, really, really angry. I started to lose control."
"Uh-huh," Giles said, "perhaps that's it."
"What's it?"
"With Oz, you lost control of your libido. With me, you lost control of your temper. In both cases, you were out of control."
Willow considered this, then blushed. "I'd like to think I lost control with you more than once. Why didn't it happen then?"
"Willow, you never lost control with me because you weren't in control at all. By intentionally transferring your power to me, you established a totally different dynamic."
"What about with Spike?" She blushed even brighter.
"Did you want to stop?"
Willow's eyes darted to the side and she refused to meet Giles' gaze.
"That's why. You only feel out of control when you're actually trying to be in control. You weren't trying to stop with Spike, and you're not in control when you're with me."
Willow nodded, trying to stifle a yawn. "I still don't like the idea of turning all dark and brooding if I start to freak out."
Giles smiled. "We'll work on it, I promise. It doesn't have to be forever."
Willow smiled warmly and hugged Giles, yawning once again. With a twinge of dismay, Giles said, "I should take you home."
Willow's lips puffed out into a pout and her eyebrows knitted together. Giles' expression turned to one of affectionate chastisement. "You know you can't stay here. You live with Buffy. There would be too many questions."
"But Giles," Willow protested, "if we're…if this is really happening, we can't keep it a secret forever."
Giles ran his fingers through his damp hair. "Do you want to tell her tonight?"
Willow grimaced.
"No, I don't want to either," Giles responded. "We'll find a way to tell her, but not tonight. Get dressed; I'll drive you home."
