Double Date
Chapter 8: A British Puppet
A/N: Chapter split in two and revised in 2024. Happy reading… :)
The week crawled by at an agonisingly slow pace.
During the first couple of days, Buffy found it nearly impossible to focus on any of her university lessons. Instead, she would mentally replay the images of their encounters over and over. Two antagonistic feelings plagued her during those moments: arousal and hate. The sex had been undeniably sizzling, but what followed made her hate him so fiercely for some reason she couldn't fully understand. She tried various ways to cope with these feelings, but in the end, she resorted to suppressing them, trying to bury the memories and move on.
Giles, meanwhile, was consumed by torturous and guilty thoughts. The start of the week was a waking nightmare, quite literally. One night, he was haunted by a horrific dream where Buffy came to him in the old Sunnydale High School library at night, seeking his help. Deceiving her, he injected her with the Cruciamentum serum, stripping her of her Slayer strength. Then, in a twisted sequence, he tied her up and repeatedly raped her, ignoring her desperate cries for mercy. Giles jolted awake, screaming her name, soaked in sweat. He barely made it to the bathroom before emptying his stomach into the toilet.
As the days dragged on, Giles found himself adopting Buffy's strategy: ignore and forget.
Finally, Saturday arrived.
"Hello?" Giles answered his phone.
"Hey, G-man, how are the things over there?" Xander's voice was bright and rapid.
"Yes, Xander. Is this important?" Giles replied in a clipped tone, not even bothering to correct Xander on the horrid nickname. He hadn't intended to sound rude, but the weariness of a bad week was unconsciously seeping into his words.
"Someone's in a chipper mood! Anyway, just calling to remind you about movie night at my place tonight," Xander said, not missing a beat.
"Um, I..." Giles began.
"Nope, no excuses are accepted. We set this up weeks ago, remember?" Xander shot back, not giving Giles an opening.
"Xander, I..." Giles tried again.
"And don't forget, you and Buff picked the date. Plus, I heard from Wil that Oz even skipped a gig tonight for this," Xander's words tumbled out without pause.
"I..." Giles attempted.
"And the food's all sorted—"
"Xander!" Giles cut in.
"Yes?" Xander answered, slightly hesitant.
"I'll be there," Giles finally relented.
"Oh-kay, right..! See you tonight!" Xander blurted out, hanging up before Giles could reconsider.
The room was well-stocked with snacks and drinks; popcorn, nuts, soda, and some beer. Willow and Oz nestled together on a bean bag, enjoying the cosy setup. Giles found himself seated on a three-seat couch with Anya and Xander. At the back of the room, Buffy sat alone on a two-seat couch, tightly wound.
If you thought things would be awkward between our favourite Watcher and Slayer, you'd be absolutely right. However, the others were blissfully unaware, so the movie session proceeded as smoothly as possible.
The movie, Swordfish, turned out to be surprisingly engaging. The plot was gripping, the action intense, and while the guys ogled Halle Berry, the girls had John Travolta and Hugh Jackman for their viewing pleasure.
But when the steamy scenes appeared on screen, the already simmering tension between Buffy and Giles threatened to boil over. Buffy shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flicking to Giles, who was doing his best to appear utterly absorbed in the film. Finally, unable to endure it any longer, Buffy excused herself to go to the bathroom.
Anya, on the other hand, seemed entirely unbothered by the risqué content; in fact, they seemed to inspire her. Growing increasingly affectionate towards Xander, what the couple believed were subtle caresses became increasingly obvious. Anya's hand boldly landed on Xander's lap, eliciting a startled gasp from him. Her whispered dirty words in his ear were loud enough for Giles, seated uncomfortably close, to hear every mortifying detail.
"I-I'll get us some m-more popcorn," Giles mumbled, more to himself than anyone else, before making a hasty exit from the room.
As he approached the hallway, Buffy emerged from the bathroom, and they collided. Instinctively, Giles reached out, his hand gripping her elbow to steady her.
"Buffy... I'm so sorry," he stammered.
Buffy's gaze dropped, taking in his hand on her arm, before meeting his eyes with undisguised hostility.
Giles withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned. "I'm sorry," he repeated.
Since arriving at Xander's place, Buffy had been battling a storm of emotions, all centred around Giles. For one, she'd noticed how undeniably attractive he looked—his hair, his broad shoulders, his jawline, his lips, which she found herself staring at far too often. And yet his impassive British demeanour and distant politeness toward her only deepened her frustration, pushing her closer to the edge.
She narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous whisper. "I'm sorry?" she repeated, her tone questioning, the words dripping with bitterness as her anger flared at the all-too-familiar phrase.
She circled him, forcing him to step back, his breath quickening as he found himself cornered. "What are you sorry for, Giles?" she pressed, finally voicing the question that had plagued her since their last encounter.
With a soft click of the door closing behind them, Giles suddenly realised they had somehow moved into the bathroom. She advanced on him, her proximity and intimidating behaviour leaving him paralysed. Within moments, the Watcher found himself cornered between her and the sink.
"What's wrong, Giles? Cat got your tongue?" she taunted, her voice thick with the tension that had been building for days.
Giles gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles whitening as he leaned back, trying in vain to create space between them. "I... I—" he stammered, the words faltering him.
"I-I what? 'I'm sorry'? Is that what you're going to say again?" she accused, in frustration.
Giles jumped when he felt her uninhibited hands land on his chest. They slid down, caressing him with purpose before her fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt. With a swift motion, Buffy yanked his shirt free from his trousers.
He gasped audibly, his eyes widening in shock. His voice deserted him entirely, leaving him unable to speak or even think clearly.
Buffy moved with a determination, just shy of being outright aggressive. Her hands made quick work of his belt buckle, then the button and zipper of his trousers. Their bodies were mere inches apart when Buffy's hand slipped inside his boxers. "Wasn't it that good for you?" she asked, her breath warm against his neck.
Giles' mouth opened, but all that escaped was a silent moan. His eyes squeezed shut as her warm hand began to rub his length.
She was definitely trying to arouse him, despite the confrontational edge to her actions. Her hand worked him, and it didn't take long for him to respond. His shaft hardened quickly under her touch, becoming as rigid as a steel bar.
Giles couldn't hold back a loud moan, his head jerking forward as he struggled to remain composed.
"Shhh," she whispered in his ear, commanding him to stay quiet. After all, they were guests in a full house. However, her hand, merciless and relentless, increased its pace.
Giles obeyed, swallowing another moan that threatened to escape.
"Was I plain, Giles? Uninteresting?" she asked, her strokes steady and firm. He couldn't help thrusting into her warm, maddening hand.
"You know what? That movie sparked an idea," Buffy continued, suddenly withdrawing her hand from his boxers. Giles exhaled in brief relief, panting as he tried to recompose himself.
"You have no idea how much I want to try it," she whispered, her voice a blend of seduction and defiance, as audacious as blowing cigarette smoke directly into his face. Before he could react, she dropped to her knees, yanking his underwear and trousers down to his ankles.
"Buffy!" Giles exclaimed, his tone filled with alarm and disbelief.
But she ignored him, leaning in to brush her tongue experimentally against his arousal for the first time.
"Oh," Giles breathed out, his legs nearly giving out as he leaned against the sink for support.
Buffy gripped his hips firmly, adjusting his position. She held his shaft with her hand once again and noticed the slick moisture weeping from its tip. She wondered how he tasted and gave him a long, deliberate lick, running her tongue along the slit at the head.
Giles gulped, his head lolling back. Staring at the ceiling, he questioned whether this was a dream or some sort of twisted nightmare.
Buffy relished the power she had assumed over him, the way his restrained noises still sounded so masculine and enticing. She curiously licked the length of his veiny manhood, taking in the sight and feel of it—long, thick, and impossibly hard. It was fascinating to know she could elicit this reaction from him, especially given his usual composed, monarchy-abiding demeanour.
Giles felt the wet warmth envelop the head of his most intimate part, and he bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle a loud groan. The movie's muffled sounds played on in the background, but they were barely noticeable over the loud beating of his heart.
Buffy sucked on his crown, and he hissed, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the sink harder when her hand fondled his balls.
"God," he breathed out, lowering his head to look at her. She appeared so strong yet feminine in a way he'd never noticed before. His mind reeled in disbelief, struggling to reconcile the Buffy he knew with the one on her knees before him.
Their eyes met, and the need in his gaze encouraged her further. She took him deeper, her mouth engulfing him as far as she could manage.
Giles' eyes widened, another audible gasp escaping him. Her tongue spun around the rim of his head, coating it with her saliva. His mouth opened and closed, trying to form words, but nothing coherent came out. She noticed his jaw trembling and could tell he was struggling to keep himself under control.
Buffy sucked him hard, flicking her tongue rapidly over the sensitive tip. Giles' head fell back, and she heard him take a huge, shuddering breath before his eyes found hers again, locking them in an intense, wordless connection.
His breathing became shallow as she began a slow, rhythmic in-and-out motion with her mouth. She could see the strain on his face, and knew she was driving him to the brink of insanity. It was exhilarating to watch him come undone by her hand; or rather, by her mouth. She had never given a blow job before, but now she understood the power it held. She had thought that being at a man's feet would make her feel submissive, but she was discovering the opposite. Far from feeling submissive, she realised she was in complete control. Giles, usually so composed, was contorting in pleasure, struggling to stay quiet, and she commanded him like a British puppet on strings; her strings.
Buffy dove into her task with renewed hunger, eager to hear him break. Giles' hips bucked involuntarily, and she pressed them back against the sink, asserting her dominance. Frustrated, he slammed his palms against the sink's edge, then gripped it again as if his life depended on it.
Buffy smirked at his frustration and sped up her pace. Giles grunted, his teeth gritting together in an attempt to remain silent.
"Buffy," he choked out, his voice strained and desperate, alerting her to his nearing climax. His left hand flew to his mouth, biting down on the base of his thumb to stifle the cry that threatened to break loose as he finally released his warmth into her mouth.
At his feet, she heard and felt him; the restrained yet guttural sound matched by his primal, jerky movements.
She slowly rose, bringing them eye to eye as Giles remained slumped against the sink, his chest heaving. They stared at each other, the air thick with tension.
Giles noticed a suble change in Buffy's expression, her eyes sharpening with a bold, challenging glint. She parted her lips slightly, and he realised with a shock that she still had his cum in her mouth. A smug look crossed her face as she toyed with it, swirling the fluid around.
When her gaze shifted to the sink, Giles instantly grasped her intent—she was about to spit it out, not just in contempt, but as a calculated move of defiance, designed to show him who held the power.
A surge of possessive anger rushed through him, mingling with something far more complex. It wasn't just the act itself that provoked him; it was the boldness, the insolent spark in her eyes that both infuriated and enticed him. Her defiance was a challenge, an assertion of control in a moment where he had been stripped of it. Yet, it was more than just a threat to his authority; it was a downright reminder of the very qualities that drew him to her in the first place.
Her strength, her sheer audacity; these were the traits that made her a thriving Slayer. But in this intimate and vulnerable moment, they also ignited a primal need within him to reclaim the power she was so boldly seizing.
His hand itched with the impulse to pull her onto his lap and spank her—not merely to punish her, but to reassert his place in this tumultuous dynamic, to remind her, and perhaps himself, who held the reins. It was an urge that startled him with its intensity, a desire born from equal parts frustration and fascination. As much as her defiance angered him, it was also this very fire in her that he found utterly irresistible.
Before she could move, Giles grabbed her arms and yanked her towards him, crashing his mouth onto hers. He forced her lips open, his tongue deftly claiming the cum from her mouth and pulling it into his own, swallowing with a thirst that surprised even him. He wanted nothing more than to drown in her. One hand released its bruising grip on her arm to bury itself in her hair, holding her firmly in place as he deepened the kiss.
Buffy made a sound of protest and eventually pushed herself free of his hold, her breath coming in short, angry bursts.
For a moment, they stood there, both panting heavily, staring at each other in stunned silence.
The smugness had vanished from her face, replaced by a look of confusion as she lightly touched her lips with trembling fingers.
Giles' intense gaze never left her, his brows knitted in concentration, a small but undeniable flame of desire still burning in his eyes.
Buffy wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in an almost aggressive motion before turning on her heel and storming out of the bathroom.
Giles closed his eyes and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He pulled up his underwear and trousers, fastening them quickly. His legs still felt wobbly beneath him, and he slid to the floor, resting his head against the sink cabinet, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
End of part 8