Double date - Part 4
A/N: Chapter revised in 2024
His gaze landed on her lips again, and he found himself leaning forward, drawn to her like a magnet. He just wanted... the warmth of her lips over his again, just for one more second. Only a single second more, he told himself.
But that second stretched into something far longer, and his hands instinctively rose, gently cradling her head, holding her in place.
His face tilted slightly to the side, and all he wanted was... just a taste. His tongue brushed her lips, while he reassured himself—only a small sample, the taste of her, just for a second. But as his tongue met hers, caressing it softly, a wave of heat surged through him. 'Oh, dear Lord.' His grip instinctively tightened in her hair, his fingers threading through the strands. 'It shouldn't feel this good.' He just needed… one more second... to prove it to himself. His mouth began to move, and hers responded in perfect rhythm, their tongues entwining, playing, tasting, teasing, exploring each other. 'This is so bloody wrong,' his mind screamed, yet his body didn't care.
The way her hands clung to the back of his neck and rested on his thigh seemed to declare, with every touch, that her body against his felt maddeningly, dangerously good. His legs closed around hers, the insides of his thighs pressing firmly against the outside of hers, pulling her even closer.
"Mmm," Buffy moaned softly into his mouth, sending a shot of ecstasy through him.
Her hands roamed over him, sliding up to his chest. Beneath her touch, his pectoral muscles tensed and rippled, radiating warmth and strength. She explored him through the thin material of his shirt, her fingers feeling the texture of the hair under his clothes. She felt his rapid heartbeat, before tracing the defined contours of his ribcage with her fingers, letting her palms glide down the sides of his torso. Without hesitation, she gripped the hem of his shirt, tugging firmly to free it from where it was tucked into his trousers. Giles couldn't resist lifting slightly to help her.
But the movement made him lose his balance, and he tipped forward. He caught himself with one hand on the couch, hovering over her as they broke the kiss.
They locked eyes.
"It's okay," Buffy whispered, her voice breathless, encouraging him to stay close. She shifted, settling back into the couch, her shoulders resting against it.
She finished pulling his shirt free as Giles held himself above her, breathing heavily. He closed his eyes, trying to regain control, fighting the storm inside him. 'We mustn't go any further,' he told himself.—This—had already gone too far.
But when her hand slipped beneath his shirt and brushed against his bare abdomen, he gasped.
"Buffy," he managed, his voice weak, intended as a warning.
"I'm just curious," she whispered, her honesty disarming him. "I want to feel you."
He swallowed hard. "We… we should stop," he tried to argue, as if trying to convince both of them.
"Give me… just one more second," she pleaded, echoing the very thought that had crossed his mind earlier.
His eyes followed as both her hands disappeared beneath his shirt, and his gaze inevitably dropped to her legs. Her skirt had ridden up slightly, revealing more of her toned thighs than he was accustomed to seeing. Uninvited, vivid erotic images surged into his mind, and he felt the exact moment his body betrayed him, his arousal undeniable. He was only a man after all.
He rested one knee on the couch beside her, hovering over her, while her hands explored his sides. She lifted her face toward him, and his mouth instinctively sought hers, capturing her in a languid, sensual kiss.
Her fingers roamed over his chest, now touching him directly, feeling the muscles beneath his skin. 'Oh! How she liked the feeling of him.'
He quivered when her hands brushed over his nipples. When she tugged on one of his belt loops, pulling him toward her, she bit his lip, drawing a soft groan from him.
Giles shifted, now straddling her but balancing himself on his knees and hand, silently praying she wouldn't notice the very obvious sign of his arousal. Which, of course, would take a miracle.
Buffy ran one hand along his thigh, and he moaned quietly. The other hand slid over his backside, squeezing gently as she went. Every touch was driving him crazy.
His lips left hers, trailing down to her jaw and neck, and his grip on her grew more possessive. He angled her head to give himself better access to her collarbone, and when he sucked on her skin, she moaned long and low, sending a thrill through him. She was getting a taste of what he had claimed himself—he was, above all, just a man. 'But God, What a man.'
He devoured her neck with hungry nibbles, kisses, and deep, lingering sucks, as if the taste of her skin was something he couldn't get enough of. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as she traced the firm contours of his body, her touch setting him on fire. He wanted—no, ached—to explore her fully, to feel every inch of her beneath his hands and lips, to surrender completely to the moment. But he held back, the rational part of his mind screaming relentlessly: This wasn't supposed to be happening.
His thigh muscles trembled from the strain of holding himself up. Buffy felt the quiver of his exhaustion, she whispered, "Come close," her voice laced with desire.
"No," he rasped, his voice rough.
"Why not?" she murmured, brushing her lips against his ear before lightly tugging on his earlobe with her teeth.
Giles swallowed audibly, his throat dry, his breathing coming in shallow gasps. "I..." he began, but the words faltered. He couldn't focus enough to find a convincing excuse, and admitting the truth was definitely not an option—he was so damn hard for her.
"It's fine," she murmured, sensing his hesitation. "I just want to feel your body on mine… your warmth. That's all."
Her hands wandered up his back, sliding under his shirt, her touch exploring his skin. Her acceptance and fascination with him left him both astounded and aroused. His scars, his imperfections—things he had long grown used to—didn't seem to matter to her. He knew his body was solid, well-kept, but compared to the youthful men she was used to, he didn't expect this kind of admiration.
Without thinking, he sought out her mouth, capturing it in a deep, desire-fueled kiss. Her hands pulled him closer, guiding him into her embrace as his pelvis slowly lowered onto hers, their bodies pressing together through the thin layers of their clothes. She shifted beneath him, and when their lower bodies finally aligned, a shared, unrestrained moan escaped them both, raw and filled with need.
She could feel his arousal pressed against her, and it only made her want more. She rocked her hips, and Giles felt a surge of warmth shoot through him, desire flooding his senses. She repeated the motion, her nails grazing his back as she clung to him.
"Buffy," her name escaped his throat, drenched in need.
He knew they shouldn't be this close, tangled together like this, but he felt powerless to stop it. He needed more of her—desperately—needed the intoxicating friction between their bodies. His left hand slid down to her butt, angling her to him, while his right hand wrapped around her, holding her tightly.
Flashes of his youth, making out on a couch under the dim light, raced through his mind, and before he could stop himself, he ground his hips against hers. Their moans came in waves, over and over, as they both savoured the overwhelming sensation. It felt so good—so deliciously wrong, yet somehow innocent at the same time. There was a forbidden thrill in it, like the fear of being caught by their parents on the living room couch. In that moment, they were just like two teenagers again, bodies pressed together, dry humping and moaning quietly, caught in the heat of reckless desire.
Their bodies began to slide down the couch, and Giles instinctively pulled her closer, easily adjusting them until they were lying flush against each other. His mouth found her neck again, leaving a trail of hot, lingering kisses as his hands roamed her sides. One hand travelled upward above her clothes, boldly finding her breast. Buffy moaned, arching into his touch, urging him on as her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck. His hand gently massaged her breast, his touch a perfect blend of tenderness and eroticism, sending her breath into ragged gasps within seconds. He brushed his thumb over her nipple through the thin fabric of her shirt and bra, drawing another moan from her. Lowering his mouth to her cleavage, he felt her arch even more, her grip tightening in his hair, pressing him closer to her.
One of his legs nudged hers apart, and he pressed his thigh firmly against her crotch, causing her skirt to ride up even higher. Instinctively, she pushed herself against his leg, a soft whimper escaping her lips. Her response drew a low, guttural groan from him, and his hand quickly found her thigh, urging her to continue. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely, unable to suppress the surge of dark satisfaction that overwhelmed him as he felt Buffy grinding against him, taking her pleasure from his thigh.
Buffy's hands reached for his belt, her fingers fumbling desperately with the buckle. But Giles quickly covered her hands with his, stilling her movements.
"Giles!" she gasped, her voice thick with want and desperation. "let me," she pleaded softly.
"We mustn't," he whispered, the words full of agony, his lips brushing against her ear as his fingers gently combed through her hair, trying to soothe her.
"I know," she murmured, her voice barely audible, though her hips still moved slowly against him.
"Lord!" he groaned, overwhelmed. "You are my Slayer. I care for you so deeply," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I don't want to ruin what we have."
Buffy could hear the fear and concern laced in his voice. Breathless from their exchange, she searched his eyes, trying to reassure him. "I don't want that either... We don't have to make this a big deal, right?" Her voice, unconsciously sultry, wavered between need and hesitation. "We can enjoy tonight—just once... And tomorrow, we go back to Slayer and Watcher..."
Giles hesitated, torn. "I'm not sure, Buffy..."
"We'll be okay. No strings, no consequences—just us, here, right now," she said, her voice filled with a quiet certainty.
Her eyes were luminous, holding a new intensity that pulled him in, the weight of her desire leaving him dizzy. He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, heart pounding as he took in her beauty, her strength, and the vulnerability she so rarely showed. The striking woman she had become. His gaze lingered on her lips, swollen and red from their kisses, and his resolve faltered.
"I need you," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Be with me tonight. Please."
End of part 4
A/N: Keep warm, kids! Winter is coming for most of you but it's getting bloody warm in Giles' flat!