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summer_of_giles2011-07-18 02:43 pm
antennapedia.livejournal.com) wrote in summer_of_giles2011-07-18 02:43 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: Arms and the Man 6/6 (Giles/Buffy) R
Title: Arms and the Man 6/6
Pairing: Giles/Buffy
Rating: R
Continued from part 5.
Buffy took a three-minute shower and came out again in leggings and a tank top. They had a knighting to participate in. It was more high ritual, more magic, and a serious occasion. And for the knights, that meant dress armor, old-fashioned armor, of the kind they would never wear again to real battle. Ellen began dressing her in the armor, silently, robotically. She looked as under-slept as Buffy was. More than that, she looked thrashed.
"Hey," she said. "You doing okay?"
Ellen nodded, but she wasn't looking at her straight on. Her chin was set in a way Buffy had seen before. On Giles, mostly, though sometimes on Xander.
"You knew Whiting?"
She finished fastening the strap she was working on before she answered. "Sir Gerald was my cousin. He recruited me, would have sponsored me."
"I'm sorry."
Ellen nodded again.
"People get hurt in this business, you know." Which was sort of a stupid thing to say, but sometimes the reminders hurt.
"I know. They tell us that all the time. Didn't know what it would look like. To see him like that."
"Yeah. It's not-- It sucks. It's why I'm out there patrolling every night."
"I'm going to do it too." Ellen's voice was fierce.
The first thing that came to mind was something all Harrison-Ford-y about how the kid should calm her jets or something. But Buffy restrained herself. What was Ellen, four years younger than she was, tops? So she shut up and stuck out her hand to shake on it with her. Ellen had a solid grip and wasn't afraid to look her in the eye.
Ellen was done, and Buffy was dressed in chain mail. Over the top of it was a white surcoat with a red double-barred cross on it, and a silk belt over that that hung down over the surcoat. It jingled. And it was heavy. It didn't fit exactly right, but it didn't need to. It was for show, not for actual battle. She could walk, that was the important thing. Giles had told her once that armor that didn't fit could make it impossible for the wearer to move.
Buffy stared at herself in the mirror. She almost didn't recognize herself. It didn't feel quite right, either. The Slayer within was itchy about it; it was never comfortable wearing protective gear. It would go naked if Buffy let it, not that she would. Could she move properly if she had to fight?
No fighting this morning, though. Not with the full assembly of knights in one place, every single one of them armed. This morning was about watching Giles be knighted.
"You remember what to do?" Ellen asked, and Buffy could hear the anxiety.
"Yeah, we rehearsed."
"It's just-- Well, it's the Queen, and it needs to be perfect."
"It's for Giles, and it'll be perfect. Wait, the Queen?"
"She sometimes comes. I've never seen her before. But she'll be here this morning."
"Why this one?"
Ellen shrugged.
The dub was to be given in the New Hall, before the assembled Order. Buffy met Twombly outside the doors. Twombly saluted her and Buffy returned the salute. He then handed her a pair of silver spurs.
"Giles's?"
"Yes. Ordinarily it would be for me to put them on him, but you should. I'll give him his sword."
Buffy nodded. She had no idea what it meant, other than that Twombly took it seriously. His expression was solemn.
Giles came through the door behind the dark boy who was Ellen's friend. He was dressed differently than he'd been last night. He was in bright chainmail exactly like hers, only his surcoat was completely white. Leather boots, leather belt with an empty sword hanger. Bare hands. He wasn't wearing his glasses. There was nothing to reveal that he was a twentieth century man. There was nothing in this room that would not have been there three centuries ago, save Conway's wheelchair.
He looked tired but confident. He'd conversed with the Power, or whatever it was, faced his death and found peace with it, and killed a vampire. Had he finally decided he was an okay guy who deserved this? Probably not. Probably he'd be angsting about his past right up until the moment he died bravely. Which he wouldn't do one instant before Buffy herself did, no matter what he said about defending her. They'd have to compete on that one.
Buffy smiled at him and he returned it with one of those brilliant grins that were so rare in him.
"Shall we?" she said.
"Let's shall."
Buffy and Twombly led Giles down the long stone-flagged hallway to the hall. Twombly was setting a measured, slow pace, which Buffy tried to match.
A pair of pages swung the doors open and the trio stepped inside. Buffy saw a full hall, rows of benches filled with men and women, familiar faces, all standing. And in front of them all, on the dais, was a woman sitting on a throne. Buffy recognized her from photographs and the news, though she was older than Buffy had expected.
She could tell the moment Giles saw that the real, actual Queen of England was in the room because he almost stumbled. He caught himself and kept walking straight on ahead to the dais. He moved forward smoothly and came to a halt before his queen, head up. He bowed.
She was taller than Buffy was, but not by much. Buffy didn't bow. She was an American, after all. Her nose twitched and she breathed in deep, trying to sense it. Power. The Queen had power. And it was a mixed thing, a tangled mess. There was more than one presence there inside her, though how Buffy didn't know. The presences were overall good, nothing she needed to fight, but they went deep and into dark places. That was... interesting.
Leaning against the throne were Giles's sword and shield. The shield glowed in the morning sunlight.
The Queen stood and Giles knelt on the pillow before her, his hands pressed together. She took her hands in his, and he swore an oath. It wasn't the one in the book, to Buffy's surprise, though it was close. For one thing, after he swore fealty to the Order of St George, he swore it to the Slayer. To her. He swore to lighten her burdens by carrying what he was able. See her name honored after her death. At least they didn't flinch away from that one. And finally, he swore not to traffic with traitors.
All this he swore upon his immortal soul. His voice was steady and clear. Tears had started in Buffy's eyes and she was grateful that she didn't have to speak.
Then the Queen stood and drew her sword. She drew it as if she knew what to do with it, as if she had drawn it with purpose earlier in her life. Or lives, Buffy thought. She held the sword out flat and Giles bent his head.
The sword struck his right shoulder. "In remembrance of honor and bravery."
His left. "In remembrance of your oath and obligations."
"Be thou a good and wise knight." The Queen touched the crown of his head with the sword, and held it there.
"Rise now, Sir Knight."
He lingered on his knees for a moment longer. Buffy saw his shoulders rise and fall in a long breath. Then he rose gracefully and stood before his queen.
She said, "Your title will not be known to the world around you, because we fight this fight in secret. But know that I know, and that the men and women who follow you will know."
Twombly nudged her, and Buffy's hands started shaking. Time to put the spurs on. She fumbled for a second then figured out how they went on. Strap around the top of the foot, snapped like so. One spur, then the other. She stood and stepped aside. Twombly replaced her; he buckled the sheathed sword onto Giles's belt. And finally, the shield, which Conway handed to him. Giles strapped it to his arm himself. He stood before them all for their applause. Giles would be hating being the center of attention, secretly, deep inside, Buffy knew, but he stood and bore it for the sake of the tradition. He looked fantastic in his armor, far better than most of them did. He looked as if he'd been born to wear it. And Buffy decided she liked the new shorter haircut.
Next came the feast in his honor, which was more like an extra-formal brunch than anything else. The pages led them all to the feasting hall and darted around getting everybody settled and all the plates filled. Ellen was there at Buffy's elbow, pouring her glass full of orange juice and unfolding her napkin for her. No, no orange juice, but mimosa. Buffy had a healthy swallow of her celebratory mimosa and settled in to observe.
Giles was seated to the Queen's right, across from Buffy. He wasn't eating much, even though he'd been fasting for more than a day. He was even quieter than usual, but Buffy could see in his face that he was happy. The mood of the knights overall was somber, however. Conway in particular looked grim. Now that Buffy was near him she could see that he looked as if he hadn't slept all night, even more tired than Giles looked. And there was something more in his face. Whiting had been his friend, she thought, closer than just a colleague.
The Queen was speaking. Buffy stopped her people-watching to pay attention.
"I offer you my congratulations, Sir Rupert."
Giles's ears pinked. "Thank you, ma'am."
Buffy stuffed a forkful of fruit into her mouth to prevent herself from giggling. Why did Giles have to been given such a silly first name? Though maybe he didn't think it was silly. She wasn't ever going to be using it, no matter what he thought. It didn't feel right to her. Not between them, anyway.
"I had heard your name before, of course, as the champion of the Slayer. It is good that you will remain her champion."
"It is my earnest hope that this change will assist me in that task." Giles was stammering. His hand went up to his face to reach for glasses that were not there.
The Queen said, "What will be your first act?"
"I plan to return immediately to the Hellmouth with the Slayer, ma'am. The vampire population must not be allowed to rise."
"Surely you will stay for Sir Gerald's funeral."
"Funeral?"
Conway said, "Sir Rupert hasn't been briefed on what happened during his vigil."
Giles looked at Buffy, not at Conway. She gave him the news tersely, knowing that he'd fill in the gaps. "Vamp attack. Six. Gunning for me, not you, but one of them got to you anyway. All dusted, but--" She made a gesture.
"It was real?"
"Yeah. You did a nice job with it."
Giles said, "Council?"
"Yup. Sharpen that sword. They might be waiting for us back home."
"You have allies," Conway said. "We will not wait for them to attack you again."
"Hostilities, Sir John?" The Queen's voice was sharp.
"Blood calls for blood, ma'am."
The Queen was silent for a moment. She and Conway stared at each other. He was braver than Buffy was, because she wasn't going to get into a contest of wills with that strange power. Well, maybe she might. If it were important. The two of them stared at each other to the point where Buffy wanted to squirm.
At last the Queen said, "Blood calls for blood. We acknowledge your grievance. Both the general and the personal."
Conway reacted to that, to Buffy's surprise. She saw his fist clench upon nothing where it rested on the table.
But all he said was, "May we expect the favor of your support in this matter?"
"The last time we meddled it did not redound in your favor, nor in ours."
"No, ma'am, it did not."
"We will intervene to end the matter once it is clear you have made your point."
"Very well."
They both seemed detached, cooly neutral, as they spoke, but Buffy was aware of a tension in the room that extended into the realm of the supernatural. That is, her inner Slayer was aware of it. More politics. Royalty was hedging its bets about which one would win. Or maybe royalty was smarter than the lot of them and knew it would need both groups in the long run. Buffy didn't have much of an opinion about that. Her job lasted for the duration of her lifespan, natural lifespan preferred. If she left the world in good shape when she checked out, she'd feel she'd done the job well.
The brunch ended when the Queen left. The room stood as she did. Some kind of ceremonial leave-taking speech was made that Buffy didn't pay much attention to. It seemed like it came out of a book. She paid attention when the little woman asked Sir Rupert and the Slayer to accompany her for a moment. That was off-script. Giles exchanged a look with Buffy that she couldn't interpret, then bowed gracefully.
They followed the Queen through the great doors and out. The doors closed on the feast hall behind them, and Buffy could hear the conversation start up again within. It was quiet in the hall as they walked. Giles's spurs ticked against the stone floor. The mail in his coat and hers rang faintly. It ought to have been ridiculous, the sight of the two of them jingling along in full armor trailing a tiny woman in robes nearly as antique, with a crown on her head. But it wasn't, at least not in that place at that time. The magic of the dubbing was still in the air around them tingling on Buffy's skin.
Waiting in the entry hall for them was a man who Buffy's senses told her to be a sorcerer of very great power indeed, and a pair of broad-shouldered men in quiet dark suits. Conventional security and magical security side by side. The Queen nodded to them, then turned to Giles.
"You two are causing sensations yet again, I see." Not the royal we, not the collective.
"I am afraid so, ma'am. But my duty is clear."
"I suppose it is. It does cause me some slight difficulty."
Buffy shifted uneasily. She'd never really questioned her decision to sever ties with the Council. It had always felt right to her. But she hadn't ever thought about it affecting more than just her and Giles.
"Ma'am, if you feel we ought to reconcile with them--"
"We came here to give you the dub ourselves for a reason. Do not doubt your choices." The collective again, Buffy noted. Just how real was the royal we anyway? The back of her neck prickled. Real. Very real. "The world needs its Slayer, and this one is legendary. So shall you both be. Serve her well. "
Giles bowed deeply. "Yes, ma'am, I shall."
The Queen raised a hand and the court magician did something and the little party was gone. Buffy could smell the magic, almost, smell the place where royalty had been standing. She shivered. That had to have been another human being touched by the Powers. Had to.
"Well," said Giles. He looked as if he'd been poleaxed. "She approves."
"Of you and me, anyway. Not so sure she likes the Council."
"I have my orders, I suppose."
"People keep telling you to do what you wanted to do anyway. Have you noticed?"
Giles ducked his head. "Yes. Save Travers."
"Who tried to kill me. What lesson do we learn from this?"
Giles smiled with half of his mouth, all sardonic because he knew where she was going with this. "Trust in myself."
She poked him in the arm. "Just what some wise man has always been telling me."
"Shall we go back in?"
Giles offered her his arm again. Buffy took it solemnly. This time as they walked they were dressed up like they were at an SCA tournament, except their swords were sharp. Buffy's hand rested on a fine metal mesh instead of fine wool. But it was the same Giles beside her, the same Watcher who'd been at her side for years now.
It was hours before Buffy could see Giles again. There was the rest of the feast, then then a demonstration of jousting outside in the fields and other demonstrations of feats with old-fashioned arms. These were not things the knights used in the field, but skills they preserved out of sentiment. Buffy liked the impulse; it made a charming contrast to how deadly serious they were about their daily weapons. Then they all went back in for tea. This was all allegedly in Giles's honor, but he had slipped off sometime in the middle of the jousting to sleep and recover from his vigil.
The mood of the knights was odd. They were happy to welcome the newcomer but they talked among themselves in grim little clumps. Buffy spotted Twombly and Amanda with their heads bent together over a map she recognized as being L.A. War was coming. She couldn't avoid it because half of it was about her. Hers was the face that had launched the ships. Which was about as hilarious as it got. All she wanted to do, really, was settle down and become the best staker of vampires that ever held a stake and did the jabbing thing.
No such luck. At least she had a few days of vacation before it started. A few days to spend with Giles.
She bailed on the second cup of tea and trudged her way back to their rooms. She'd been in the chain mail all day and it was starting to wear on her nerves. Twenty pounds of metal on her back all day, or however much it weighed.
Giles was there on the balcony, with his own tea service on a tray. He turned and saw her and came into the room. He was dressed in normal clothing again, his usual cotton trousers and too-large pullover. His hands were in his pockets. He leaned against the doorpost and smiled at her. He looked almost shy.
"How you feeling?"
"Rested, thank you."
Buffy closed the door behind her and as an afterthought, locked it. "Do you feel, I don't know, different in any way?"
She started undoing the straps on her greaves. After a moment of hesitation, Giles came over to her and began to help.
"Yes, yes, I do. It's difficult to describe. I feel balanced, somehow. As if my body could do anything I asked of it. And restless, a bit. Except I'm terribly clumsy. I broke a teacup just now."
Buffy laughed. "Yeah, I know that one. Lasts a few days then it kinda snaps into place."
Giles started working on the other greave. "Odd to experience what I have merely read about, as a thing one's Slayer goes through."
They were on more even ground now. Except that he still had twenty years of head start on her in education. Buffy suspected she'd never catch up with him, but that didn't mean she had to be a slouch. She'd find her own field to be an expert in. Something relevant to demon-hunting that he didn't know much about. She didn't have to find it right away. And meanwhile she didn't have to worry about him getting hurt as much as she used to.
Though it was a dangerous line of work and nothing would ever fix that. She'd found her peace with that.
"You got more ceremony than I did. I just woke up one day, boom, hello, Slayer now. You got the whole cap and gown thing." Buffy held up her surcoat in demonstration, then laid it across the back of the armchair.
"Er. Different sort of pomp and circumstance." Giles cleared his throat. "Turn 'round."
Buffy obeyed and held her arms up over her head. Giles lifted the mail shirt up and off. Major relief. Underneath was a padded cloth shirt. Buffy undid the buttons herself and shrugged it off. She kicked off the leather boots, and that was it. She was wearing her own clothes, just a tank top and leggings. Her kind of fighting gear.
Giles showed her how to arrange undershirt and mail on the armor stand next to the sword rack. It looked pretty now that she wasn't wearing it.
"Shiny stuff," she said. "You have a set now too?"
"Come see the shield." He stepped aside from the doorway and gestured toward his little room. He bowed slightly as Buffy walked past him.
His knight's clothing was set on the chest at the end of his little bed, folded neatly. On top of it rested his spurs and the sword. The shield leaned against the chest at the end of the bed. It didn't look like much in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. It was a heater shield, like the one she'd carried when they'd been teaching her how to joust, simple leather stretched over wood, with bosses where it was attached to the frame. Buffy crouched down before it to take a good look at the design on it. The leather had been dyed a deep green. The silver lances glittered faintly, as if they were truly the metal and not more dye or paint. Buffy brushed her fingertips over them. She couldn't feel where one color stopped and the other began, but her fingers tingled a little. Magic, then.
Buffy turned her attention to the spurs. They were like the shield, more fancy than practical, big silver rollers with decorations chased all over. They weren't something she could imagine Giles wearing on patrol with her. The sword was something else again. She'd expected the kind of fancy glittery thing you saw in the movies, the hilt covered in gilt, the blade impractically thin and light. This sword was simple: leather-wrapped hilt, plain sweep of steel blade. It was well-balanced, which she could feel even though it had been made for somebody taller than she was, somebody closer to Giles's height. Not that the weight was a problem for her.
She said, "I like it. It's the kind of thing you can use every day."
"Yes. The shield I'll hang on my wall, but the sword I will live with."
That was a good way to put it.
Giles was standing watching her, alert and erect, his hands folded behind his back. It was the squiring posture he'd been in earlier. That was interesting, very interesting indeed.
He said, "Er. I have your cross. It did indeed bring me luck."
"And I have something for you," she said.
She led him back to the room, to the dresser where her jewelry was laid out, such as it was. She hadn't brought much, but what she did have was some extra earrings.
"You asked for a token to wear. I have one for you." She took one of her captive bead rings, one she'd been wearing herself until that morning. It was gold and one of a pair of rings she'd bought a while ago for her left ear. She was still wearing its twin.
She tipped it into Giles's outstretched palm. He held it up and he smiled. "Thank you. I haven't worn one often recently, but I should be glad to do so." Then, diffidently, "Would, would you put it on for me?"
Buffy took the ring back. "I can't reach. You'll have to kneel."
Giles's face changed when she said that. His eyes went dark and his lips parted. And then she got it. That was what he needed. She hadn't imagined it. He wanted it just as much as she did, and in exactly the same way.
Giles went to his knees gracefully, at her feet. He folded his hands in front of himself and bowed his head, just like he had when waiting for the dub. He was looking up at her this time, though, and breathing as if he'd been running.
Buffy flexed the metal and let the captive bead drop into her hand. She took his earlobe in her fingers and found the place where it was pierced. He hadn't worn anything in it recently, by the look. She set the end of her ring in place pushed it into his lobe. It was a thicker than whatever he'd been wearing before, but it threaded through with only a little resistance. Buffy popped the little gold bead into place and rotated the earring so it hung properly. It looked good on him, not gaudy at all. Understated.
She gave it a sharp tug and he sucked in a breath and tensed up. She waited until his shoulders dropped again.
"No taking this off," she said.
"Of course not."
She gripped his shirt and tugged him closer to her. "You're mine now."
"Have I not always been?"
"Now it's official."
"Yes."
He hadn't moved from his knees. That was good.
"Do you like kneeling for me?"
"Yes." Very softly, but he'd spoken with no hesitation. She stroked his head again and thought about what to do with him now. She'd told him it would be tonight, and it was going to happen for sure, but she hadn't thought it would happen like this. But now she knew what he wanted-- wow. Her heart was hammering and her body was awake.
She put her lips to his ear and whispered. "I think I like it too."
He groaned, outright groaned, when she said that.
Giles wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his head against her belly. Buffy stroked his hair. Soft hair, shorter than it had been. He was hard in his trousers, but it seemed to be something he was patient about. Buffy had an impulse to touch him, to stroke him and find out what he felt like, but held onto it for the moment. She could be patient, too.
She bent to him and whispered, "No more nerves?"
"I'm yours."
"Good. Undress for me."
Buffy stepped back from him. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed. Then he stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. There it was, the wince because of his ribs, but neither one of them was going to worry about that tonight. Shoes kicked off to the side, socks following. He turned away from her to shed his trousers and his boxers. Buffy frowned, but then he turned back to her. He knelt again on the bedroom floor and folded his arms behind his back without being asked.
There were bruises on his ribs and shoulder, dark blue shading to red. From the sparring, mostly, though maybe some were from the vampire. They were neither sexy nor off-putting. They were a fact of life for them. Places on his body she had to be careful of. Honorable marks of honorable combat. Combat he'd won.
He was also magnificently hard.
God, she wanted him. She wanted him whatever he looked like, whatever he was wearing. Tweed. Leather and mail. Or naked as he was now.
She knelt before him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed herself tight against his bare chest. She liked men. Not boys, men. Strong men, muscled men, intelligent men, headstrong men. Men who'd fight alongside her. Men who weren't frightened of who she was. A man who'd kneel like this for her and hold himself still when she cupped her fingers around his balls and lifted them. Heavy, solid, a good handful. Giles tipped his head back but otherwise did not move. She could feel him trembling, though, and his breath was coming fast.
Buffy left him kneeling there and sat on the bed to undress. She took her time about it, though unfortunately she didn't have much to take off. His eyes were down mostly, but she saw that he was sneaking glances at her. She smiled to herself.
Buffy sometimes worried about what she looked like. Too much muscle, not enough cleavage. She was wiry rather than slender and it was obvious when she was nude. The first boy she'd been to bed with hadn't reacted well. Riley had eventually revealed his ambivalence about it, about her ability to pick him up and throw him. But Giles, Giles's face was avid. He liked what he saw. The expression on his face was triumph and no amount of bowing his head could disguise it. She turned away so he couldn't see the mirror on her face. The Slayer spirit inside was exulting and it was all she could do to keep it contained.
"Time to go to bed," she said.
He stood gracefully and sat down on the edge of the bed. Buffy laid a hand flat against his chest and pushed him backwards. "Lie on your back."
Giles stretched himself out obediently. There was a faint smile on his face as he did so. Cheeky guy. Buffy would see what she could do to make things a little harder on him.
"Grab the headboard." He reached up and searched until his hands found the crossbar. "Don't let go until I tell you you can." He nodded and clenched his fists tighter.
Buffy knelt beside him and looked at her Watcher, her knight. There was fuzz on his stomach, across his chest, brown salted with gray, darkest under his arms, which smelled faintly like his sweat. Scars on his arms and chest, traces of old wounds. She could see what training had done for him in the last year, in his shoulders and pecs, in the lats flaring when he pulled at the headboard, in the muscles of his forearms.
She ran a hand down his chest, to his belly, next to where his sex lay. His whole body was trembling, but he still held the headboard as he'd been commanded. Buffy stroked a finger over him quickly. He gasped.
She said, "Do I have to tell you to wait until you have permission?"
"It'll be difficult."
"Wrong answer."
He looked away from her. "It's been a while for me."
"You'll just have to try harder."
"Of course, sorry, didn't mean to imply-- of course I'll wait."
Now to test his resolve.
Buffy knelt between his spread thighs and grinned up at him. He held her gaze and his lips parted. She licked him. His whole body shook and then he held himself still. She tasted him again and was gratified to hear him moan. She set out to drive him mad, for not other reason than that she liked doing this, liked the sounds he made when she did, liked the way he said her name, pleading with her to give him release, to allow him to touch her.
She backed off to give him time to cool down. She'd been all rumbly at him before about holding off, but she didn't want to make it truly hard for him or let him screw up. That wasn't her game. Tease him a little, make him wait, make him explode when he finally got there-- that was her game. She knelt beside him on the bed and stroked his face until his breathing slowed down and he wasn't trembling any more. He shifted his grip on the headboard but didn't let go.
Now it was time for what she wanted and had been waiting for since that first night in bed together. She straddled his hips and took his penis in hand. He watched her intently. As she sank down onto him, he closed his eyes. Buffy kept her eyes open. She wanted to watch his face.
She held herself in place over him. God, what a sight, this man moving underneath her, his whole body taut and straining upward to join with her. He felt good inside her, solid, just right. They were moving together as if they had always been doing this, had been making love to each other for years and years.
She was so charged up that it took her no time at all to reach her crisis point and tumble over. When she caught her breath again, she leaned down to kiss Giles. His face was red and he looked strained. He hadn't let go of the headboard even for a moment.
"God, Buffy, please."
On wicked impulse Buffy rocked her hips against him. "Want something?"
"Please!"
"You can let go now. Go ahead."
One last thrust upward and he was there, head thrown back, face flushed, eyes shut, his expression either agony or pleasure. The only way she knew which was because of his voice.
Buffy touched herself and brought herself over the edge again, while his body was still hard and satisfying inside her. When she caught her breath again, he was relaxed underneath her, hands resting gently on her thighs. He helped her up. Buffy knelt next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"You good now?"
"More than. Come here." He tugged at her until Buffy yielded and lay down next to him. Giles curled himself against her side. His head was on her shoulder and his arm flung across her waist-- heavy, damp with sweat. Buffy's hunger for his body was eased but not gone. She wanted that feeling again and again. Many times more. Tonight, if he could be coaxed into it. It was all right if he couldn't. They would have time. Lots of time. Time to learn to play chess? Buffy doubted it, despite Conway's prediction. But enough for a good life.
Giles shifted next to her. His hand on her hip tightened for a moment. "Mmm," he said.
"Sounded like a good mmm."
"It was."
"Was that okay? Just now?"
"Almost unbearable not being able to touch you. Wanted to be kissing you." He kissed her shoulder and sighed.
"Next time."
"Next time."
"An astonishing week. Who could have seen this end to it?"
"Not me," she murmured. Her Slayer spirit could have, Buffy wanted to say, but she couldn't have predicted more than ending up in bed with him. The rest of it-- the Order of St George, the fighting, the encounter with royalty, the honor done Giles-- none of that could she have seen coming.
Giles sat up and stretched. He ran his hands over his thighs and rolled his shoulders.
"So strange," he said. "My body feels strange to me."
"Takes a while," Buffy said.
"Even sex is different to what it was before."
Now that was interesting. Buffy hadn't had sex before she'd become the Slayer, not even the solo kind. "Good different or bad different?"
"Neither. Though Eric did tip me off. Took me aside solely for the purpose of warning me."
"Warn you about what?"
Giles laughed softly. "There's another way in which I am more like you now."
"Oh yeah?"
Giles made no answer but to move. He rolled onto her and grasped her wrists in his. He pulled them up over her head and pinned her down, just as she had pinned him two nights before. Buffy strained up against him just enough that he could feel it, not enough to be truly fighting him.
Against her thigh she could feel him hardening again, already. She grinned up at him in the darkness and saw him grinning back.
Pairing: Giles/Buffy
Rating: R
Continued from part 5.
Buffy took a three-minute shower and came out again in leggings and a tank top. They had a knighting to participate in. It was more high ritual, more magic, and a serious occasion. And for the knights, that meant dress armor, old-fashioned armor, of the kind they would never wear again to real battle. Ellen began dressing her in the armor, silently, robotically. She looked as under-slept as Buffy was. More than that, she looked thrashed.
"Hey," she said. "You doing okay?"
Ellen nodded, but she wasn't looking at her straight on. Her chin was set in a way Buffy had seen before. On Giles, mostly, though sometimes on Xander.
"You knew Whiting?"
She finished fastening the strap she was working on before she answered. "Sir Gerald was my cousin. He recruited me, would have sponsored me."
"I'm sorry."
Ellen nodded again.
"People get hurt in this business, you know." Which was sort of a stupid thing to say, but sometimes the reminders hurt.
"I know. They tell us that all the time. Didn't know what it would look like. To see him like that."
"Yeah. It's not-- It sucks. It's why I'm out there patrolling every night."
"I'm going to do it too." Ellen's voice was fierce.
The first thing that came to mind was something all Harrison-Ford-y about how the kid should calm her jets or something. But Buffy restrained herself. What was Ellen, four years younger than she was, tops? So she shut up and stuck out her hand to shake on it with her. Ellen had a solid grip and wasn't afraid to look her in the eye.
Ellen was done, and Buffy was dressed in chain mail. Over the top of it was a white surcoat with a red double-barred cross on it, and a silk belt over that that hung down over the surcoat. It jingled. And it was heavy. It didn't fit exactly right, but it didn't need to. It was for show, not for actual battle. She could walk, that was the important thing. Giles had told her once that armor that didn't fit could make it impossible for the wearer to move.
Buffy stared at herself in the mirror. She almost didn't recognize herself. It didn't feel quite right, either. The Slayer within was itchy about it; it was never comfortable wearing protective gear. It would go naked if Buffy let it, not that she would. Could she move properly if she had to fight?
No fighting this morning, though. Not with the full assembly of knights in one place, every single one of them armed. This morning was about watching Giles be knighted.
"You remember what to do?" Ellen asked, and Buffy could hear the anxiety.
"Yeah, we rehearsed."
"It's just-- Well, it's the Queen, and it needs to be perfect."
"It's for Giles, and it'll be perfect. Wait, the Queen?"
"She sometimes comes. I've never seen her before. But she'll be here this morning."
"Why this one?"
Ellen shrugged.
The dub was to be given in the New Hall, before the assembled Order. Buffy met Twombly outside the doors. Twombly saluted her and Buffy returned the salute. He then handed her a pair of silver spurs.
"Giles's?"
"Yes. Ordinarily it would be for me to put them on him, but you should. I'll give him his sword."
Buffy nodded. She had no idea what it meant, other than that Twombly took it seriously. His expression was solemn.
Giles came through the door behind the dark boy who was Ellen's friend. He was dressed differently than he'd been last night. He was in bright chainmail exactly like hers, only his surcoat was completely white. Leather boots, leather belt with an empty sword hanger. Bare hands. He wasn't wearing his glasses. There was nothing to reveal that he was a twentieth century man. There was nothing in this room that would not have been there three centuries ago, save Conway's wheelchair.
He looked tired but confident. He'd conversed with the Power, or whatever it was, faced his death and found peace with it, and killed a vampire. Had he finally decided he was an okay guy who deserved this? Probably not. Probably he'd be angsting about his past right up until the moment he died bravely. Which he wouldn't do one instant before Buffy herself did, no matter what he said about defending her. They'd have to compete on that one.
Buffy smiled at him and he returned it with one of those brilliant grins that were so rare in him.
"Shall we?" she said.
"Let's shall."
Buffy and Twombly led Giles down the long stone-flagged hallway to the hall. Twombly was setting a measured, slow pace, which Buffy tried to match.
A pair of pages swung the doors open and the trio stepped inside. Buffy saw a full hall, rows of benches filled with men and women, familiar faces, all standing. And in front of them all, on the dais, was a woman sitting on a throne. Buffy recognized her from photographs and the news, though she was older than Buffy had expected.
She could tell the moment Giles saw that the real, actual Queen of England was in the room because he almost stumbled. He caught himself and kept walking straight on ahead to the dais. He moved forward smoothly and came to a halt before his queen, head up. He bowed.
She was taller than Buffy was, but not by much. Buffy didn't bow. She was an American, after all. Her nose twitched and she breathed in deep, trying to sense it. Power. The Queen had power. And it was a mixed thing, a tangled mess. There was more than one presence there inside her, though how Buffy didn't know. The presences were overall good, nothing she needed to fight, but they went deep and into dark places. That was... interesting.
Leaning against the throne were Giles's sword and shield. The shield glowed in the morning sunlight.
The Queen stood and Giles knelt on the pillow before her, his hands pressed together. She took her hands in his, and he swore an oath. It wasn't the one in the book, to Buffy's surprise, though it was close. For one thing, after he swore fealty to the Order of St George, he swore it to the Slayer. To her. He swore to lighten her burdens by carrying what he was able. See her name honored after her death. At least they didn't flinch away from that one. And finally, he swore not to traffic with traitors.
All this he swore upon his immortal soul. His voice was steady and clear. Tears had started in Buffy's eyes and she was grateful that she didn't have to speak.
Then the Queen stood and drew her sword. She drew it as if she knew what to do with it, as if she had drawn it with purpose earlier in her life. Or lives, Buffy thought. She held the sword out flat and Giles bent his head.
The sword struck his right shoulder. "In remembrance of honor and bravery."
His left. "In remembrance of your oath and obligations."
"Be thou a good and wise knight." The Queen touched the crown of his head with the sword, and held it there.
"Rise now, Sir Knight."
He lingered on his knees for a moment longer. Buffy saw his shoulders rise and fall in a long breath. Then he rose gracefully and stood before his queen.
She said, "Your title will not be known to the world around you, because we fight this fight in secret. But know that I know, and that the men and women who follow you will know."
Twombly nudged her, and Buffy's hands started shaking. Time to put the spurs on. She fumbled for a second then figured out how they went on. Strap around the top of the foot, snapped like so. One spur, then the other. She stood and stepped aside. Twombly replaced her; he buckled the sheathed sword onto Giles's belt. And finally, the shield, which Conway handed to him. Giles strapped it to his arm himself. He stood before them all for their applause. Giles would be hating being the center of attention, secretly, deep inside, Buffy knew, but he stood and bore it for the sake of the tradition. He looked fantastic in his armor, far better than most of them did. He looked as if he'd been born to wear it. And Buffy decided she liked the new shorter haircut.
Next came the feast in his honor, which was more like an extra-formal brunch than anything else. The pages led them all to the feasting hall and darted around getting everybody settled and all the plates filled. Ellen was there at Buffy's elbow, pouring her glass full of orange juice and unfolding her napkin for her. No, no orange juice, but mimosa. Buffy had a healthy swallow of her celebratory mimosa and settled in to observe.
Giles was seated to the Queen's right, across from Buffy. He wasn't eating much, even though he'd been fasting for more than a day. He was even quieter than usual, but Buffy could see in his face that he was happy. The mood of the knights overall was somber, however. Conway in particular looked grim. Now that Buffy was near him she could see that he looked as if he hadn't slept all night, even more tired than Giles looked. And there was something more in his face. Whiting had been his friend, she thought, closer than just a colleague.
The Queen was speaking. Buffy stopped her people-watching to pay attention.
"I offer you my congratulations, Sir Rupert."
Giles's ears pinked. "Thank you, ma'am."
Buffy stuffed a forkful of fruit into her mouth to prevent herself from giggling. Why did Giles have to been given such a silly first name? Though maybe he didn't think it was silly. She wasn't ever going to be using it, no matter what he thought. It didn't feel right to her. Not between them, anyway.
"I had heard your name before, of course, as the champion of the Slayer. It is good that you will remain her champion."
"It is my earnest hope that this change will assist me in that task." Giles was stammering. His hand went up to his face to reach for glasses that were not there.
The Queen said, "What will be your first act?"
"I plan to return immediately to the Hellmouth with the Slayer, ma'am. The vampire population must not be allowed to rise."
"Surely you will stay for Sir Gerald's funeral."
"Funeral?"
Conway said, "Sir Rupert hasn't been briefed on what happened during his vigil."
Giles looked at Buffy, not at Conway. She gave him the news tersely, knowing that he'd fill in the gaps. "Vamp attack. Six. Gunning for me, not you, but one of them got to you anyway. All dusted, but--" She made a gesture.
"It was real?"
"Yeah. You did a nice job with it."
Giles said, "Council?"
"Yup. Sharpen that sword. They might be waiting for us back home."
"You have allies," Conway said. "We will not wait for them to attack you again."
"Hostilities, Sir John?" The Queen's voice was sharp.
"Blood calls for blood, ma'am."
The Queen was silent for a moment. She and Conway stared at each other. He was braver than Buffy was, because she wasn't going to get into a contest of wills with that strange power. Well, maybe she might. If it were important. The two of them stared at each other to the point where Buffy wanted to squirm.
At last the Queen said, "Blood calls for blood. We acknowledge your grievance. Both the general and the personal."
Conway reacted to that, to Buffy's surprise. She saw his fist clench upon nothing where it rested on the table.
But all he said was, "May we expect the favor of your support in this matter?"
"The last time we meddled it did not redound in your favor, nor in ours."
"No, ma'am, it did not."
"We will intervene to end the matter once it is clear you have made your point."
"Very well."
They both seemed detached, cooly neutral, as they spoke, but Buffy was aware of a tension in the room that extended into the realm of the supernatural. That is, her inner Slayer was aware of it. More politics. Royalty was hedging its bets about which one would win. Or maybe royalty was smarter than the lot of them and knew it would need both groups in the long run. Buffy didn't have much of an opinion about that. Her job lasted for the duration of her lifespan, natural lifespan preferred. If she left the world in good shape when she checked out, she'd feel she'd done the job well.
The brunch ended when the Queen left. The room stood as she did. Some kind of ceremonial leave-taking speech was made that Buffy didn't pay much attention to. It seemed like it came out of a book. She paid attention when the little woman asked Sir Rupert and the Slayer to accompany her for a moment. That was off-script. Giles exchanged a look with Buffy that she couldn't interpret, then bowed gracefully.
They followed the Queen through the great doors and out. The doors closed on the feast hall behind them, and Buffy could hear the conversation start up again within. It was quiet in the hall as they walked. Giles's spurs ticked against the stone floor. The mail in his coat and hers rang faintly. It ought to have been ridiculous, the sight of the two of them jingling along in full armor trailing a tiny woman in robes nearly as antique, with a crown on her head. But it wasn't, at least not in that place at that time. The magic of the dubbing was still in the air around them tingling on Buffy's skin.
Waiting in the entry hall for them was a man who Buffy's senses told her to be a sorcerer of very great power indeed, and a pair of broad-shouldered men in quiet dark suits. Conventional security and magical security side by side. The Queen nodded to them, then turned to Giles.
"You two are causing sensations yet again, I see." Not the royal we, not the collective.
"I am afraid so, ma'am. But my duty is clear."
"I suppose it is. It does cause me some slight difficulty."
Buffy shifted uneasily. She'd never really questioned her decision to sever ties with the Council. It had always felt right to her. But she hadn't ever thought about it affecting more than just her and Giles.
"Ma'am, if you feel we ought to reconcile with them--"
"We came here to give you the dub ourselves for a reason. Do not doubt your choices." The collective again, Buffy noted. Just how real was the royal we anyway? The back of her neck prickled. Real. Very real. "The world needs its Slayer, and this one is legendary. So shall you both be. Serve her well. "
Giles bowed deeply. "Yes, ma'am, I shall."
The Queen raised a hand and the court magician did something and the little party was gone. Buffy could smell the magic, almost, smell the place where royalty had been standing. She shivered. That had to have been another human being touched by the Powers. Had to.
"Well," said Giles. He looked as if he'd been poleaxed. "She approves."
"Of you and me, anyway. Not so sure she likes the Council."
"I have my orders, I suppose."
"People keep telling you to do what you wanted to do anyway. Have you noticed?"
Giles ducked his head. "Yes. Save Travers."
"Who tried to kill me. What lesson do we learn from this?"
Giles smiled with half of his mouth, all sardonic because he knew where she was going with this. "Trust in myself."
She poked him in the arm. "Just what some wise man has always been telling me."
"Shall we go back in?"
Giles offered her his arm again. Buffy took it solemnly. This time as they walked they were dressed up like they were at an SCA tournament, except their swords were sharp. Buffy's hand rested on a fine metal mesh instead of fine wool. But it was the same Giles beside her, the same Watcher who'd been at her side for years now.
It was hours before Buffy could see Giles again. There was the rest of the feast, then then a demonstration of jousting outside in the fields and other demonstrations of feats with old-fashioned arms. These were not things the knights used in the field, but skills they preserved out of sentiment. Buffy liked the impulse; it made a charming contrast to how deadly serious they were about their daily weapons. Then they all went back in for tea. This was all allegedly in Giles's honor, but he had slipped off sometime in the middle of the jousting to sleep and recover from his vigil.
The mood of the knights was odd. They were happy to welcome the newcomer but they talked among themselves in grim little clumps. Buffy spotted Twombly and Amanda with their heads bent together over a map she recognized as being L.A. War was coming. She couldn't avoid it because half of it was about her. Hers was the face that had launched the ships. Which was about as hilarious as it got. All she wanted to do, really, was settle down and become the best staker of vampires that ever held a stake and did the jabbing thing.
No such luck. At least she had a few days of vacation before it started. A few days to spend with Giles.
She bailed on the second cup of tea and trudged her way back to their rooms. She'd been in the chain mail all day and it was starting to wear on her nerves. Twenty pounds of metal on her back all day, or however much it weighed.
Giles was there on the balcony, with his own tea service on a tray. He turned and saw her and came into the room. He was dressed in normal clothing again, his usual cotton trousers and too-large pullover. His hands were in his pockets. He leaned against the doorpost and smiled at her. He looked almost shy.
"How you feeling?"
"Rested, thank you."
Buffy closed the door behind her and as an afterthought, locked it. "Do you feel, I don't know, different in any way?"
She started undoing the straps on her greaves. After a moment of hesitation, Giles came over to her and began to help.
"Yes, yes, I do. It's difficult to describe. I feel balanced, somehow. As if my body could do anything I asked of it. And restless, a bit. Except I'm terribly clumsy. I broke a teacup just now."
Buffy laughed. "Yeah, I know that one. Lasts a few days then it kinda snaps into place."
Giles started working on the other greave. "Odd to experience what I have merely read about, as a thing one's Slayer goes through."
They were on more even ground now. Except that he still had twenty years of head start on her in education. Buffy suspected she'd never catch up with him, but that didn't mean she had to be a slouch. She'd find her own field to be an expert in. Something relevant to demon-hunting that he didn't know much about. She didn't have to find it right away. And meanwhile she didn't have to worry about him getting hurt as much as she used to.
Though it was a dangerous line of work and nothing would ever fix that. She'd found her peace with that.
"You got more ceremony than I did. I just woke up one day, boom, hello, Slayer now. You got the whole cap and gown thing." Buffy held up her surcoat in demonstration, then laid it across the back of the armchair.
"Er. Different sort of pomp and circumstance." Giles cleared his throat. "Turn 'round."
Buffy obeyed and held her arms up over her head. Giles lifted the mail shirt up and off. Major relief. Underneath was a padded cloth shirt. Buffy undid the buttons herself and shrugged it off. She kicked off the leather boots, and that was it. She was wearing her own clothes, just a tank top and leggings. Her kind of fighting gear.
Giles showed her how to arrange undershirt and mail on the armor stand next to the sword rack. It looked pretty now that she wasn't wearing it.
"Shiny stuff," she said. "You have a set now too?"
"Come see the shield." He stepped aside from the doorway and gestured toward his little room. He bowed slightly as Buffy walked past him.
His knight's clothing was set on the chest at the end of his little bed, folded neatly. On top of it rested his spurs and the sword. The shield leaned against the chest at the end of the bed. It didn't look like much in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. It was a heater shield, like the one she'd carried when they'd been teaching her how to joust, simple leather stretched over wood, with bosses where it was attached to the frame. Buffy crouched down before it to take a good look at the design on it. The leather had been dyed a deep green. The silver lances glittered faintly, as if they were truly the metal and not more dye or paint. Buffy brushed her fingertips over them. She couldn't feel where one color stopped and the other began, but her fingers tingled a little. Magic, then.
Buffy turned her attention to the spurs. They were like the shield, more fancy than practical, big silver rollers with decorations chased all over. They weren't something she could imagine Giles wearing on patrol with her. The sword was something else again. She'd expected the kind of fancy glittery thing you saw in the movies, the hilt covered in gilt, the blade impractically thin and light. This sword was simple: leather-wrapped hilt, plain sweep of steel blade. It was well-balanced, which she could feel even though it had been made for somebody taller than she was, somebody closer to Giles's height. Not that the weight was a problem for her.
She said, "I like it. It's the kind of thing you can use every day."
"Yes. The shield I'll hang on my wall, but the sword I will live with."
That was a good way to put it.
Giles was standing watching her, alert and erect, his hands folded behind his back. It was the squiring posture he'd been in earlier. That was interesting, very interesting indeed.
He said, "Er. I have your cross. It did indeed bring me luck."
"And I have something for you," she said.
She led him back to the room, to the dresser where her jewelry was laid out, such as it was. She hadn't brought much, but what she did have was some extra earrings.
"You asked for a token to wear. I have one for you." She took one of her captive bead rings, one she'd been wearing herself until that morning. It was gold and one of a pair of rings she'd bought a while ago for her left ear. She was still wearing its twin.
She tipped it into Giles's outstretched palm. He held it up and he smiled. "Thank you. I haven't worn one often recently, but I should be glad to do so." Then, diffidently, "Would, would you put it on for me?"
Buffy took the ring back. "I can't reach. You'll have to kneel."
Giles's face changed when she said that. His eyes went dark and his lips parted. And then she got it. That was what he needed. She hadn't imagined it. He wanted it just as much as she did, and in exactly the same way.
Giles went to his knees gracefully, at her feet. He folded his hands in front of himself and bowed his head, just like he had when waiting for the dub. He was looking up at her this time, though, and breathing as if he'd been running.
Buffy flexed the metal and let the captive bead drop into her hand. She took his earlobe in her fingers and found the place where it was pierced. He hadn't worn anything in it recently, by the look. She set the end of her ring in place pushed it into his lobe. It was a thicker than whatever he'd been wearing before, but it threaded through with only a little resistance. Buffy popped the little gold bead into place and rotated the earring so it hung properly. It looked good on him, not gaudy at all. Understated.
She gave it a sharp tug and he sucked in a breath and tensed up. She waited until his shoulders dropped again.
"No taking this off," she said.
"Of course not."
She gripped his shirt and tugged him closer to her. "You're mine now."
"Have I not always been?"
"Now it's official."
"Yes."
He hadn't moved from his knees. That was good.
"Do you like kneeling for me?"
"Yes." Very softly, but he'd spoken with no hesitation. She stroked his head again and thought about what to do with him now. She'd told him it would be tonight, and it was going to happen for sure, but she hadn't thought it would happen like this. But now she knew what he wanted-- wow. Her heart was hammering and her body was awake.
She put her lips to his ear and whispered. "I think I like it too."
He groaned, outright groaned, when she said that.
Giles wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his head against her belly. Buffy stroked his hair. Soft hair, shorter than it had been. He was hard in his trousers, but it seemed to be something he was patient about. Buffy had an impulse to touch him, to stroke him and find out what he felt like, but held onto it for the moment. She could be patient, too.
She bent to him and whispered, "No more nerves?"
"I'm yours."
"Good. Undress for me."
Buffy stepped back from him. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed. Then he stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. There it was, the wince because of his ribs, but neither one of them was going to worry about that tonight. Shoes kicked off to the side, socks following. He turned away from her to shed his trousers and his boxers. Buffy frowned, but then he turned back to her. He knelt again on the bedroom floor and folded his arms behind his back without being asked.
There were bruises on his ribs and shoulder, dark blue shading to red. From the sparring, mostly, though maybe some were from the vampire. They were neither sexy nor off-putting. They were a fact of life for them. Places on his body she had to be careful of. Honorable marks of honorable combat. Combat he'd won.
He was also magnificently hard.
God, she wanted him. She wanted him whatever he looked like, whatever he was wearing. Tweed. Leather and mail. Or naked as he was now.
She knelt before him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed herself tight against his bare chest. She liked men. Not boys, men. Strong men, muscled men, intelligent men, headstrong men. Men who'd fight alongside her. Men who weren't frightened of who she was. A man who'd kneel like this for her and hold himself still when she cupped her fingers around his balls and lifted them. Heavy, solid, a good handful. Giles tipped his head back but otherwise did not move. She could feel him trembling, though, and his breath was coming fast.
Buffy left him kneeling there and sat on the bed to undress. She took her time about it, though unfortunately she didn't have much to take off. His eyes were down mostly, but she saw that he was sneaking glances at her. She smiled to herself.
Buffy sometimes worried about what she looked like. Too much muscle, not enough cleavage. She was wiry rather than slender and it was obvious when she was nude. The first boy she'd been to bed with hadn't reacted well. Riley had eventually revealed his ambivalence about it, about her ability to pick him up and throw him. But Giles, Giles's face was avid. He liked what he saw. The expression on his face was triumph and no amount of bowing his head could disguise it. She turned away so he couldn't see the mirror on her face. The Slayer spirit inside was exulting and it was all she could do to keep it contained.
"Time to go to bed," she said.
He stood gracefully and sat down on the edge of the bed. Buffy laid a hand flat against his chest and pushed him backwards. "Lie on your back."
Giles stretched himself out obediently. There was a faint smile on his face as he did so. Cheeky guy. Buffy would see what she could do to make things a little harder on him.
"Grab the headboard." He reached up and searched until his hands found the crossbar. "Don't let go until I tell you you can." He nodded and clenched his fists tighter.
Buffy knelt beside him and looked at her Watcher, her knight. There was fuzz on his stomach, across his chest, brown salted with gray, darkest under his arms, which smelled faintly like his sweat. Scars on his arms and chest, traces of old wounds. She could see what training had done for him in the last year, in his shoulders and pecs, in the lats flaring when he pulled at the headboard, in the muscles of his forearms.
She ran a hand down his chest, to his belly, next to where his sex lay. His whole body was trembling, but he still held the headboard as he'd been commanded. Buffy stroked a finger over him quickly. He gasped.
She said, "Do I have to tell you to wait until you have permission?"
"It'll be difficult."
"Wrong answer."
He looked away from her. "It's been a while for me."
"You'll just have to try harder."
"Of course, sorry, didn't mean to imply-- of course I'll wait."
Now to test his resolve.
Buffy knelt between his spread thighs and grinned up at him. He held her gaze and his lips parted. She licked him. His whole body shook and then he held himself still. She tasted him again and was gratified to hear him moan. She set out to drive him mad, for not other reason than that she liked doing this, liked the sounds he made when she did, liked the way he said her name, pleading with her to give him release, to allow him to touch her.
She backed off to give him time to cool down. She'd been all rumbly at him before about holding off, but she didn't want to make it truly hard for him or let him screw up. That wasn't her game. Tease him a little, make him wait, make him explode when he finally got there-- that was her game. She knelt beside him on the bed and stroked his face until his breathing slowed down and he wasn't trembling any more. He shifted his grip on the headboard but didn't let go.
Now it was time for what she wanted and had been waiting for since that first night in bed together. She straddled his hips and took his penis in hand. He watched her intently. As she sank down onto him, he closed his eyes. Buffy kept her eyes open. She wanted to watch his face.
She held herself in place over him. God, what a sight, this man moving underneath her, his whole body taut and straining upward to join with her. He felt good inside her, solid, just right. They were moving together as if they had always been doing this, had been making love to each other for years and years.
She was so charged up that it took her no time at all to reach her crisis point and tumble over. When she caught her breath again, she leaned down to kiss Giles. His face was red and he looked strained. He hadn't let go of the headboard even for a moment.
"God, Buffy, please."
On wicked impulse Buffy rocked her hips against him. "Want something?"
"Please!"
"You can let go now. Go ahead."
One last thrust upward and he was there, head thrown back, face flushed, eyes shut, his expression either agony or pleasure. The only way she knew which was because of his voice.
Buffy touched herself and brought herself over the edge again, while his body was still hard and satisfying inside her. When she caught her breath again, he was relaxed underneath her, hands resting gently on her thighs. He helped her up. Buffy knelt next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"You good now?"
"More than. Come here." He tugged at her until Buffy yielded and lay down next to him. Giles curled himself against her side. His head was on her shoulder and his arm flung across her waist-- heavy, damp with sweat. Buffy's hunger for his body was eased but not gone. She wanted that feeling again and again. Many times more. Tonight, if he could be coaxed into it. It was all right if he couldn't. They would have time. Lots of time. Time to learn to play chess? Buffy doubted it, despite Conway's prediction. But enough for a good life.
Giles shifted next to her. His hand on her hip tightened for a moment. "Mmm," he said.
"Sounded like a good mmm."
"It was."
"Was that okay? Just now?"
"Almost unbearable not being able to touch you. Wanted to be kissing you." He kissed her shoulder and sighed.
"Next time."
"Next time."
"An astonishing week. Who could have seen this end to it?"
"Not me," she murmured. Her Slayer spirit could have, Buffy wanted to say, but she couldn't have predicted more than ending up in bed with him. The rest of it-- the Order of St George, the fighting, the encounter with royalty, the honor done Giles-- none of that could she have seen coming.
Giles sat up and stretched. He ran his hands over his thighs and rolled his shoulders.
"So strange," he said. "My body feels strange to me."
"Takes a while," Buffy said.
"Even sex is different to what it was before."
Now that was interesting. Buffy hadn't had sex before she'd become the Slayer, not even the solo kind. "Good different or bad different?"
"Neither. Though Eric did tip me off. Took me aside solely for the purpose of warning me."
"Warn you about what?"
Giles laughed softly. "There's another way in which I am more like you now."
"Oh yeah?"
Giles made no answer but to move. He rolled onto her and grasped her wrists in his. He pulled them up over her head and pinned her down, just as she had pinned him two nights before. Buffy strained up against him just enough that he could feel it, not enough to be truly fighting him.
Against her thigh she could feel him hardening again, already. She grinned up at him in the darkness and saw him grinning back.
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