Double date - part 5

A/N: Chapter revised in 2024

I hope you enjoy. :)

Gently untangling her from his embrace, Giles rose from the couch. He stood before her, silent and stern, his demeanour reflecting the disciplined life he had embraced, a demeanour she knew all too well. Buffy's chest tightened as she held her breath in anticipation, the faint ticking of a clock filling the room, a sound she had never noticed before.

He remained silent for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. Then, with a serene gesture, he offered his hands to her. Buffy's heart raced as she searched his eyes, desperate to decipher his intentions. Finding no answers, she resigned herself and placed her hands in his. His grip was firm, yet gentle, helping her rise from the couch.

Turning his back to her, Giles gently pulled her along. His warm and reassuring hand held hers with confidence as he smoothly navigated through the furniture of the living room, guiding her to the foot of the stairs. Without hesitation, he started climbing, their hands still clasped as his steps remained measured and determined. He resembled a devoted soldier after being given an explicit order of execution.

Buffy watched him from behind, taking in his crumpled shirt with its tail hanging loose and his tousled hair. He no longer wore his glasses, and everything about him seemed so far removed from the dependable and predictable Watcher she knew. With each upwards stride, her heart pounded harder, the ticking clock from before giving way to the thunderous rhythm of her heartbeat echoing in her ears.

The moment her lips had shaped that final request, Giles knew his fate was sealed. Those words—soft, almost fragile—had torn through every barrier he had left.

She held such power over him. Would he always yield to her desires? Was this truly how it was meant to be between Watchers and Slayers?

He had no answers yet.

They reached his bedroom, and he paused by the bed. Gently releasing her hand, he moved to the bedside lamp and turned it on. A soft glow filled the room, mingled with the faint light coming from below.

Giles stepped back toward her, keeping a careful distance. His posture remained rigid, and his movements restrained, as though unsure whether he had already crossed a sacred line between them.

Buffy stood utterly still, the only wild thing was the frantic beat of her heart.

Their eyes locked as his hands moved to unbutton his shirt, methodically undoing each button from top to bottom. His face was a blank slate, betraying nothing Buffy could read. He peeled the shirt away, but her gaze stayed fixed on his eyes, searching for something. Giles kicked off his shoes and bent to remove his socks with the same methodical precision.

Straightening up, he paused, his arms tense at his sides, not fully at ease. Then, his hands opened—palms facing her in a gesture of quiet surrender.

"This is the man I am. My body is weathered and marked," he said, the vulnerability in his voice faint, but unmistakable.

Buffy's eyes finally broke from his and began a slow descent down his body; they lingered briefly on his chest before sweeping over his long legs, still covered by his trousers, finally settling on his bare feet planted firmly on the ground. The entire scene—his tense posture, his outstretched hands—felt so raw and symbolic that, for a moment, she forgot to breathe.

She took a step closer, her gaze still tethered to his. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for his belt buckle. Giles inhaled sharply but didn't move.

With steady hands, she unfastened and unzipped his trousers. As the zipper lowered, Giles swallowed audibly, his breath hitching. She carefully slid the trousers down, and he stepped out of them, his body still trembling with restrained tension.

Giles remained where he was, still clad in his boxers, yet he had never felt so exposed in his life.

Buffy stood just an arm's length away. Slowly, deliberately, she began to undress. Like him, her movements were devoid of emotion, almost mechanical, yet they carried a natural sensuality that filled the room with an unbearable sexual tension.

Finally, Buffy slipped out of her skirt. She straightened, standing before him in nothing but black laced underwear.

She drew in a few shallow breaths, attempting to calm her racing heart. But even her Slayer strength seemed powerless in the face of this charged, unfamiliar moment.

Giles' eyes followed her gaze as it broke away from his face and travelled down his body, her gaze scrutinising every inch of exposed skin—the veins in his arms, the taut muscles in his chest, the soft trail of hair leading down his abdomen until it disappeared beneath his boxers. She absorbed every detail of his last, most intimate piece of clothing. Her eyes paused briefly on his defined thighs before continuing their journey down to his calves and feet.

All this time, Giles kept his focus on her eyes. His apprehension and the unspoken concern for her acceptance kept him from letting his gaze wander over her body, even as his body ached for her.

Her gaze drifted back to his chest, settling on a specific spot. With a weak step forward, she lifted her hand and touched him there. The skin beneath her fingers felt uncharacteristically smooth—it was a battle scar.

Giles swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay still, the intensity of the moment nearly overwhelming him.

The scar stretched about three inches across his skin, a thin line that hinted at a deep, brutal cut. It was the most prominent scar Buffy could find, standing out among the others.

"I-I'm far from perfect, Buffy," he said quietly, the dryness in his mouth making the words come out as a soft rasp.

"You are a warrior, Giles," she declared without hesitation. "That's perfection to me." Her eyes burned with an intensity, conveying a depth of belief, as if willing him to see himself through her eyes.

Her fingers traced the scar slowly, "Was it a demon's claw?"

Giles didn't answer, vivid memories of the wound flashing through his mind. His hesitation was a reflection of how deep the memory still ran.

"A sword?" she pressed, gently urging him to respond.

"A knife," he finally replied, his voice thick and tight with the weight of the memories.

That mark, along with a few others, had been carved into his chest by Angelus during a horrific torture session.

Buffy heard the pain in his voice and, while her curiosity lingered, she decided not to push him further. At that moment, her desire was not to understand his past, but to be his present, to be the one who brought him back from the shadows of those scars.

She stepped further into his space, her voice low and intimate. "I want you."

"You... have me," he said, his voice quiet, shaky, like a confession torn from him before his mind could catch up.

His shoulders sagged slightly, and his eyes searched hers, as if waiting for her to recognise the truth that had always been there.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. It was more than just an agreement or a vulnerable surrender—it was his trust, laid bare for her. Her hands trembled slightly as she reached out, her fingertips brushing his chest before gliding upward, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her palms.

Her heart pounded, her breath coming faster as her hands travelled up to his shoulders. The strength she felt there, the way his body tensed under her touch, made her feel powerful in a way she hadn't expected.

Her voice, though tender, carried a distinct challenge, "Show me."

For a long, breathless moment, his eyes continued fixed on hers as if searching her soul. Then, he slowly lowered his mouth to hers, offering her a chance to pull away if she chose to. His gaze shifted to her lips until his own found them, prompting his eyes to close. She instinctively did the same, and when she felt his tongue tracing her lips, she took the invitation, opening her mouth to him.

Both were struck by an unusual thrill and her grip tightened on him while his arms enveloped her body; his skin feeling extremely warm against hers.

This kiss felt far more intimate than the ones they'd shared on the couch. Maybe it was the heat of their nearly bare bodies pressed together, or perhaps it was the undeniable awareness of what was about to happen. Either way, there was no turning back now, and the weight of that unspoken truth made every touch, every breath, feel more charged.

Before the kiss could grow even more heated, Giles gently guided them to the bed. He laid Buffy down first, then lowered himself over her, carefully supporting his weight above her.

Her hands traced the ample lines of his back, drawing him closer as his own hand roamed over her body, igniting her skin. Their lips remained locked, Giles swallowing her soft moans and releasing a few of his own.

He growled softly as her hands slipped into his shorts, her fingers deliberate, exploring the muscles of his rear. Buffy let out a small laugh at his reaction, the sound light but filled with desire, before surrendering again to his expert touch.

Breaking the kiss, Giles let his mouth trail down to her neck, his lips eager and searching. Buffy instinctively tilted her head, offering him full access as her body responded, melting into him. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses along her skin, pausing to bite gently, drawing a series of soft, breathless moans from her.

His face moved slowly downwards, grazing her collarbone as his hands mapped the curves of her sides. Buffy felt the searing intensity of his desire. It was driving her wild. Every touch was electric, unlike anything she had ever experienced before.

His hands found her breasts, fondling them over her bra as his mouth sought out her hardening nipple, gently nipping at it through the sheer fabric. Buffy arched into him. In one fluid motion, his hand slid to her back, expertly unclasping her bra. She was surprised by how effortlessly he moved, how skilled he was in the art of lovemaking; before she even realised, her bra was gone, leaving her fully exposed to him.

His hands landed smoothly on her breasts, his touch gradually becoming firmer. His lips grazed the sensitive skin around her nipples before he gently nibbled and sucked on one. Buffy whimpered, threading her fingers through his soft hair.

Giles was restless yet gentle in his advances, guiding Buffy down an irresistible, arousing path with no exit signs in sight.

Only after giving ample attention to each of her breasts did he move south, revelling in the feel of her firm abs beneath his lips. He felt the tremor of pleasure ripple through her and noticed her breath becoming increasingly uneven.

He inched lower, his lips trailing along the waistband of her panties. Hooking his fingers on either side, he slowly began to slide them down, removing the last piece of her clothing.

Buffy, to her surprise, felt completely at ease as Giles undressed her. Instinctively, she lifted her hips from the bed, helping him in his task.

After discarding her panties, he returned his attention to her body, his gaze sweeping over her with unrestrained admiration, his eyes dark with smouldering desire.

"You are… utterly intoxicating," he murmured, his voice thick.

She smiled, her body relaxing at his unexpected but deeply thrilling compliment.

Giles kissed her stomach, his warm hands gliding over her hips. He revelled in the overwhelming sensation of her skin beneath his lips and fingers; at that moment, it was his guilty pleasure, a carnal indulgence he couldn't deny. His wet, open-mouthed kisses trailed lower, down the path to the inside of her thighs. Buffy's louder moans and sharp shivers sent a jolt of heat racing through him.

His hand touched her intimately and she moaned again. He traced his fingers along her folds with the lightest touch, feeling her soft, sensitive skin, warm and moist.

Buffy gasped when he teased her clit briefly. He watched her face and body contorting in shy pleasure. Her little moans and gasps were simply too unbearably sensual, making his pulse quicken.

His fingers continued their delicate caresses until they found her centre, teasing her without fully entering.

"It feels so good," she whispered breathlessly.

"Umm..." was all he could manage, his mind slipping away as raw, primal instinct took over.

Taking a deep breath, Giles lowered his mouth between her legs, his fingers continuing their gentle caress.

"Giles," Buffy gasped, her body tensing as her voice took on a nervous edge.

He froze instantly, his gaze lifting to hers, concern flickering in his eyes. His breath came in shallow, ragged bursts, but he willed himself to stop, searching her face.

"I... um… no one's ever..." she stammered, her cheeks flushing deeply, a shy vulnerability breaking through for the first time that night.

Understanding dawned on him immediately. No one had ever touched her like this before—no one had ever claimed this most intimate part of her with their lips.

Giles paused, his breath uneven, but his body softened. His thumb brushed the side of her thigh, a gentle reassurance as he whispered, "Buffy... if you don't want this, just tell me." His voice was thick with restraint, though the raw need in his eyes betrayed him.

Buffy held his gaze, her heartbeat hammering in her chest. The intensity of his desire was undeniable, and yet his touch was so careful, so patient. It was impossible to deny him this—to deny them both—their shared hunger. Swallowing hard, she gave a slow, deliberate nod, granting him her silent permission.

For a moment, he just looked at her, his chest rising and falling as he savoured the sight of her. Then, with a shuddering breath, he lowered his mouth to her again, moving with quiet reverence, a heat radiating from his body that sent a rush of warmth through her.

His hands slid to her thighs, gently parting them wider as he settled between them. His hot breath ghosted over her skin, the anticipation building, until his tongue finally pressed softly against her clit. Buffy jerked, a loud moan escaping her lips as her body arched instinctively, overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of his touch.

A quiet hum of approval escaped him as he gave her a moment to collect herself. Then, with firm yet tender control, he pinned her hips to the bed, resuming the slow, deliberate caress of his mouth over her folds, savouring every taste of her.

Buffy's gaze lifted to the ceiling as she relaxed into the indescribably pleasurable sensation. She could feel the warmth and texture of his lips and tongue, along with the wetness they caused. Giles' muffled breaths filled her ears as her eyes fluttered closed in rapture.

When his tongue pressed firmly against her core, Buffy gasped, her body trembling at the intensity.

"Oh, God!" she cried, her voice catching.

Giles held his tongue in place, drawing a long moan from her lips, as the heat inside her continued to build, her arousal slick and undeniable. He eased back, letting his tongue linger for a moment, before blowing a cool stream of air over her sensitive skin, sending a shiver through her.

"Oh, God," she breathed again, a dazed smile tugging at her lips.

Without warning, his tongue found her clit again, but this time he held her firmly in place, his mouth working with maddening precision, teasing and torturing her with each calculated flick of his tongue.

Her hands flew to his hair, gripping it tightly, almost painfully. Giles growled low in his throat and, with one swift movement, he captured her wrists, holding them together just above her stomach, immobilising her.

Buffy whimpered but didn't break free; there was something far more urgent pulling her focus.

Giles continued, his rhythm unbroken, his tongue flicking and occasionally sucking on her clit, each motion so skilled, pushing her higher.

"Giles," she called, her voice shaky, pleading. He knew her climax was nearing.

He didn't stop, even as her breath turned ragged, her moans rising to desperate gasps.

Her body bucked against his hold, trembling uncontrollably as the wave built inside her, unstoppable.

Closer... closer... closer...

"Ahhhhhhhhhh..." Her cry echoed in the room as her release tore through her, her body shuddering uncontrollably beneath him.

Giles held her steady, his mouth never leaving her, prolonging her pleasure until the last tremor passed. Only then did he release her hands, pushing himself up to take in the sight of her, her face glowing with satisfaction, breath still coming in heavy gasps.

Their eyes met, and for a long moment, they simply stared at each other, suspended in the shared intensity of it all.

"Come here, Watcher-mine," she whispered, her voice intimate.

A flicker of warmth touched his lips, his eyes softened with affection as he lowered his body over hers once more.

After quickly wiping his mouth on the bed sheet, he pressed his lips to hers, tentative at first. But Buffy wasn't interested in hesitation; she pulled him closer, kissing him deeply, tasting herself on his tongue.

It was a taste like no other, and she knew that from this moment on, whenever she tasted herself in another lover's mouth, she would remember how wonderful it had felt in Giles's.

As his tongue mimicked its earlier movements, Buffy moaned into the kiss, her soft sounds ignited even more fire in him. His hand caressed her thigh with unbearable need, and she instinctively lifted her knee to cradle him closer. The hard press of his arousal against her sent a shiver through her, heightening her anticipation of what was to come. Buffy pulled him nearer, her hips rolling in sync with his, creating a slow, maddening rhythm. Giles groaned deeply, gulping for air, as though barely holding on to the last threads of his control.

Buffy began tugging at his boxer shorts, and Giles, dazed with longing, quickly helped her, kicking them off his legs. Now, he lay naked over her, and time seemed to stand still. The only sounds in the room were their pounding hearts and the ragged rhythm of their breathing.

"You all right?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with genuine care.

Buffy nodded silently, as though afraid any words might shatter the fragile moment between them.

"Buffy," his eyes sought hers, "Are you sure?" he coaxed, his heart in his throat. If she wanted to stop, he would without question, but he knew it would be one of the hardest things he'd ever have to do—he was desperate to lose himself completely in her body.

"Oh! Of course I am," she breathed, her gaze steady. "And you?" she asked.

He hesitated, her question catching him off guard. In just a few hours, everything had changed—this woman, so sexually intoxicating, had left him utterly shaken. His body trembled, consumed by his need for hers.

"It frightens me how much I do," he admitted at last.

Buffy nodded slowly, her eyes darkening as she whispered, "Good." Before he could respond, she threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him into a kiss.

The kiss quickly deepened, sizzling with intensity, and neither could hold back any longer.

Adjusting his position between her legs, Giles guided his hard member to her entrance. Slowly, he pushed into her, giving them both time to savour every inch. Buffy whimpered softly, and he grunted in raw, unrestrained pleasure. Once fully inside her, he paused, kissing her forehead, waiting for her body to adjust.

Buffy's breath caught in her throat. The sensation of him filling her was overwhelming, stretching her in ways that made her entire body tremble. But more than that, it felt... surprisingly right. There was no one else she could've craved like this tonight. Her muscles tensed, then relaxed, her body welcoming him as if it had always meant to be this way. She knew in that moment, there would be no regrets.

Giles exhaled shakily, feeling the tightness of her body wrapped around him. He needed this pause—not just for her but for himself. It had been too long since he'd felt anything like this, and with every pulse of her around him, he couldn't fathom why he had ever denied himself such primal, unfiltered pleasure. She gripped him in a way that drove him mad with lust, pulling him deeper into her heat. It wasn't like his reckless Ripper days, chasing fleeting highs, indulging in mindless carnal excess—but bloody hell, there was nothing quite like the power of sex.

And now, he was drowning in it. The way her body held him so perfectly, as though she were made for him. It felt… unshakably right. There was no need for pretence or control in this moment—just the pure, physical connection between them. Though only for tonight, she was his, his Slayer. He was marking, claiming her, in every way, and it sent a dark thrill through him. God, he was about to undo her completely—and most likely himself along with her. He was going to hell for this—he was sure of it—but right now, it felt like heaven.

Buffy stirred beneath him, the shift in her body snapping him from his haze of thoughts. She was ready, her legs tightening around him. Giles took the hint and began to move, his hips rolling slowly at first, savouring the way she writhed beneath him. Her body responded to every thrust, each movement drawing soft moans from her lips.

Giles lowered his mouth to her neck, the heat of his breath grazing her skin before his lips latched onto it, sucking firmly, teeth scraping in unconscious rough caresses. Buffy's muscles tightened around him, a deliberate squeeze that made his hips stutter for a moment, drawing a guttural sound from deep within his chest. Without thinking, he answered by pushing harder into her.

Buffy's nails dug into his back, not gently, but hard enough to leave marks, as if she could somehow fuse herself with him. The sensation of her grip spurred him on, his body responding, setting a pulsing rhythm.

The bed creaked repeatedly beneath them with each forceful movement, but neither noticed—lost as they were in the consuming need for more.

Each thrust felt like a deliberate, powerful claim, and Buffy's moans were no longer soft, but ragged, desperate cries. Giles groaned, the sound animalistic, almost feral as he surrendered completely to the primal instinct to take her.

Who would've imagined that Buffy's Watcher could be such an animal in bed?

Certainly, not her.

The heat of their bodies melded together, the air between them impregnated with the scent of sweat and desire. Her nails dragged across his back, leaving behind burning lines that he knew would last for days. He welcomed it though, wanting the reminder of her, of this moment.

He shifted the tempo—his deep, deliberate strokes turned quick and unrelenting. Their breaths intermingled, shallow and gasping, their hearts pounding. Giles grit his teeth, his head snapping back as he felt their releases draw near. It was as if every nerve in his body was alight, every muscle tensed to breaking point as they teetered on the edge together.

With a final, forceful thrust, Giles felt something inside him give way, seeking complete fusion as if a part of him was melting into her. Buffy's cry of pure release tore through the room, and Giles followed with a deep, primal roar, their bodies shaking and trembling as they burned through every last ounce of energy they had left.

Completely spent, Giles rested his head in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and ragged against her damp skin. Buffy's chest rose and fell heavily, her body feeling utterly limp and sated in his arms.

After a while, Giles reluctantly withdrew, sliding his softened length from her, and Buffy let out a soft, involuntary sound of protest. He shifted to lie beside her, pulling her into his arms and tugging the covers up around them both.

Buffy turned slightly, letting her hand trail down his forearm until her fingers brushed over a faint scar along his wrist. Her fingertips grazed the uneven skin, left behind by an old wound. She wondered absently how many other marks like this he carried — how many scars she hadn't yet discovered.

The intimacy of the touch was subtle, yet deeply personal. It reminded her of the vulnerability he had shown earlier, and despite the physical satisfaction that coursed through her body, a small knot of uncertainty stirred in her chest. 'What happens after this?' The thought was barely perceptible, but still there.

She could feel Giles' breath at the nape of her neck, the soft exhale calming her spiralling thoughts. His fingers skimmed her arm absentmindedly, brushing along her skin in soothing, almost unconscious strokes.

Buffy closed her eyes, pressing her body more fully into him, her hand still resting over the scar. She let herself relax, focusing on his warmth, and the weight of his arm resting over her.

Several minutes passed as their heartbeats slowly settled. Buffy stirred slightly, her voice soft: "Giles..."

He had to clear his throat before managing a hoarse, "Yes?"

"Was it good for you?" she asked, the question light but with a hint of curiosity.

That made Giles chuckle softly, the sound relaxed. "Yes, Buffy, quite," he replied with typical British understatement. "And for you?"

"I'd say we definitely click," she teased, a playful edge in her voice—a knowing reference to their earlier talk involving Aaron and Christina.

Giles' gentle laughter followed, recalling the conversation from the café. He kissed her shoulder, and pulled her even closer, feeling her body relax again as her breathing deepened, drifting off to sleep in his arms.

Sleep didn't come so easily for him though. Staring into the dimness of the room, his mind refused to settle. Calling what they'd shared 'quite good' was a vast understatement, even for him. Buffy had been so intensely responsive, and guiding her to her release had been as fulfilling—if not more—than his own. Being inside her had felt nothing short of sublime. In fact, it had been one of the most remarkable sexual experiences of his life—if not for the creeping sense of guilt tugging at the edges of his thoughts.

Tonight had been magnificent, but as the lingering heat coursed through him, Giles knew his body wouldn't easily forget this. His mind insisted they could go back to their roles as Watcher and Slayer—but his body?... God help him.

End of part 5

A/N: Whew! It's been a long time since I last wrote smutty, so I hope it came out all right. hehe I hope to 'see' you all soon with one more naughty chapter. After all, I have to practice... hehe :)