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summer_of_giles2008-06-16 02:02 am
lilruca.livejournal.com) wrote in summer_of_giles2008-06-16 02:02 am
Entry tags:
Fic: The New Slayer - Part Two, Giles/Faith
Title: The New Slayer (2/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lilruca
Rating: PG 13 to R (??? I SUCK at rating!)
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Giles/Faith
Warnings: Season 3, Slightly AU
Disclaimer: I do not own Giles or Faith or Buffy or anyone else from their world. Dang it.
Summary: Giles has a secret about why Faith was absent during Buffy's Cruciamentum
Rupert Giles sat alone in his darkened flat, drinking bourbon from a tumbler. Buffy hated him. He hated himself. He should never have gone along with the Cruciamentum. But though he had questioned it, complained about it, he HAD done it. He had stripped Buffy of her Slayer enhancements. True, she had succeeded beyond anyone’s most wild imaginings. But that wasn’t what bothered him the most. What bothered him was Faith. He had sent Faith all the way to Cleveland for ten days. Only it hadn’t been to keep her from interfering as the Council had suspected. Indeed, he could still hear Travers’ praise. “Brilliant idea, Rupert. Sending the other one off. Wouldn’t do to have to spill the beans, or worse, help your Slayer out.”
“Buffy. Faith and Buffy. They have names, Quentin.” Even just thinking about the words, Rupert had to speak this fact aloud.
No. Faith had been sent to Cleveland for her own protection. What would Faith do, watching Buffy lose her strength? She’d become more agitated and mistrustful than usual, terrified it would happen to her, as well. That was the problem. He had done it to Buffy.
Rupert poured himself another tumbler of bourbon. He had done it to Buffy but if it had been Faith in that chair, he would have thrown the damned serum down the drain. He could try to use logic to make sense of the fact. He could tell himself that Buffy was far more well adjusted, that she was stronger in so many ways and thus she could handle the betrayal that Faith could not. He could say that Faith was too new to these surroundings to be pushed or tested in such a way.
He’d be lying.
“It ain’t lyin’, G.” He could hear her voice, full of smoke, sex and danger. “It’s just…distracting from the truth. Manipulating the truth to fit your needs.”
He swallowed the rest of this, his third tumbler of the evening. Ripper thrashed against his chains whenever Faith was near. He longed to play her games – to teach to how to really play. He growled as he realised the alcohol was not taking Faith from his thoughts, only letting her take over them more completely.
“You sent me away because I scare you.” Faith taunted him in his mind.
He could see her painted lips, her dark hair loose and wild, her eyes glittering with the shine of moonlight on the iron gates of otherwise impenetrable walls. “Damn.” He muttered feeling himself grow hard with desire. He took off his glasses and poured another drink. He still felt unreasonably grateful that Faith had taken off after ‘SlayerFest ‘98’. Ripper had been unleashed so shortly afterwards and the damage was embarrassing enough. If Faith had been there, there would be no telling what would have happened. Well, more than likely, one of them would have ended up handcuffed to his bed. Or they both would have had their turn by the time it was done.
“No. Mustn’t think like that.” Rupert scolded himself. It wasn’t very effective. The alcohol was spreading through him like warm fire. Like Faith’s hands… “I said stop that, damn it!”
Faith was due back the very next day. He had to stop thinking like this or he’d hardly be able to face her. Already she taunted him when they were alone. Even in front of the others though never in ways blatant enough for them to realise. She loved showing off for him and loved it more when she actually got a response from him. It would put a fire in her eyes and make her breath hitch. And somehow she always knew when she got to him, sometimes even before he realised it himself. Even then, the others never seemed to notice how she’d straighten ever so slightly, how she’d briefly lose track of what she was saying and so pause or repeat a word or two. He noticed however and it made it all the more difficult to control himself, to resist her. But oh, how he imagined being with her. He saw it differently every time. Sometimes it was rough and hard, other times slow and gentle as could be. He saw her in control, he saw teaching her that giving up control was not always such a bad thing.
He groaned, finishing his bourbon and putting the glass down on the table. He shifted to adjust himself as he strained against his clothes. He tried to picture her and found it easy. He could see her dark, troubled eyes and her taunting smile. He could hear the rumble of her laughter. “Wanna play, Watcher-man?”
“Faith…” He groaned her name, tormented that she appealed to him so much. He opened her eyes, and she was still there, standing close, hands on her hips. It was blurred without his glasses but there she was.
She stepped closer. “Looks like you got a helluva problem there.” She chortled, moving to straddle his lap.
That was when he realised she was actually there. “Damn!” He pushed her away from him. “You aren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.” She couldn’t have been there long but he hadn’t heard the door or anything.
“So I hopped an early plane. Saw something I thought you oughta know, though gotta say, I don’t know for the life of me what it is now. All I can think of is how damn…uncomfortable you gotta be.” Faith easily resisted his push, allowing it to keep her where she was instead of pushing her away. One hand crept up his thigh to grasp the hardness between them and she wriggled with sheer delight when he moaned in pleasure. She leaned forward to kiss him deeply, her tongue touching his lips.
He couldn’t resist her kiss. His lips parted, his tongue touched hers. “We can’t.” Rupert protested when they parted.
“Why? Drunk as you are, you gonna remember a thing come morning?” Faith asked.
“I’m not that drunk.” Rupert protested with a shake of his head.
“You could be.” Faith leaned back, provocative and sensual, and grabbed the bottle.
Rupert shook his head. “No. I’d want to remember making love with you.”
Faith froze, stiffened slightly. She didn’t say anything, didn’t know how to respond. “Wh-who’s t-talkin’ about love or whatever? I’m just talkin’ about a good fuck.”
Rupert heard the confused stammer in her voice and wanted to weep. He heard the pain and suspicion of years of unkindness. He heard the years of her being a victim. “Faith.” He shook his head and her name was a prayer, a summoning of some kind – the invocation of a goddess. “I’m not that much of a fool. You’re worth too much to just get a taste of, then let go of.”
Faith squirmed and she took a deep swallow from the bottle. “You’re just drunk. Besides, maybe I’d let you take more than one ride.” She said with a smirk, putting the bottle down and moving to get off of him.
Now that it was real, Rupert couldn’t let go of her. He kissed her hard, his hand tangling in her hair, locking her in just the right position for his tongue to duel with hers. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. Heat met hardness and they both groaned. “I want more than a ride.” He told her, feeling her respond to the growl in his voice.
“Don’t change your mind in the morning?”
Rupert kissed her again.
Author:
lilrucaRating: PG 13 to R (??? I SUCK at rating!)
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Giles/Faith
Warnings: Season 3, Slightly AU
Disclaimer: I do not own Giles or Faith or Buffy or anyone else from their world. Dang it.
Summary: Giles has a secret about why Faith was absent during Buffy's Cruciamentum
Rupert Giles sat alone in his darkened flat, drinking bourbon from a tumbler. Buffy hated him. He hated himself. He should never have gone along with the Cruciamentum. But though he had questioned it, complained about it, he HAD done it. He had stripped Buffy of her Slayer enhancements. True, she had succeeded beyond anyone’s most wild imaginings. But that wasn’t what bothered him the most. What bothered him was Faith. He had sent Faith all the way to Cleveland for ten days. Only it hadn’t been to keep her from interfering as the Council had suspected. Indeed, he could still hear Travers’ praise. “Brilliant idea, Rupert. Sending the other one off. Wouldn’t do to have to spill the beans, or worse, help your Slayer out.”
“Buffy. Faith and Buffy. They have names, Quentin.” Even just thinking about the words, Rupert had to speak this fact aloud.
No. Faith had been sent to Cleveland for her own protection. What would Faith do, watching Buffy lose her strength? She’d become more agitated and mistrustful than usual, terrified it would happen to her, as well. That was the problem. He had done it to Buffy.
Rupert poured himself another tumbler of bourbon. He had done it to Buffy but if it had been Faith in that chair, he would have thrown the damned serum down the drain. He could try to use logic to make sense of the fact. He could tell himself that Buffy was far more well adjusted, that she was stronger in so many ways and thus she could handle the betrayal that Faith could not. He could say that Faith was too new to these surroundings to be pushed or tested in such a way.
He’d be lying.
“It ain’t lyin’, G.” He could hear her voice, full of smoke, sex and danger. “It’s just…distracting from the truth. Manipulating the truth to fit your needs.”
He swallowed the rest of this, his third tumbler of the evening. Ripper thrashed against his chains whenever Faith was near. He longed to play her games – to teach to how to really play. He growled as he realised the alcohol was not taking Faith from his thoughts, only letting her take over them more completely.
“You sent me away because I scare you.” Faith taunted him in his mind.
He could see her painted lips, her dark hair loose and wild, her eyes glittering with the shine of moonlight on the iron gates of otherwise impenetrable walls. “Damn.” He muttered feeling himself grow hard with desire. He took off his glasses and poured another drink. He still felt unreasonably grateful that Faith had taken off after ‘SlayerFest ‘98’. Ripper had been unleashed so shortly afterwards and the damage was embarrassing enough. If Faith had been there, there would be no telling what would have happened. Well, more than likely, one of them would have ended up handcuffed to his bed. Or they both would have had their turn by the time it was done.
“No. Mustn’t think like that.” Rupert scolded himself. It wasn’t very effective. The alcohol was spreading through him like warm fire. Like Faith’s hands… “I said stop that, damn it!”
Faith was due back the very next day. He had to stop thinking like this or he’d hardly be able to face her. Already she taunted him when they were alone. Even in front of the others though never in ways blatant enough for them to realise. She loved showing off for him and loved it more when she actually got a response from him. It would put a fire in her eyes and make her breath hitch. And somehow she always knew when she got to him, sometimes even before he realised it himself. Even then, the others never seemed to notice how she’d straighten ever so slightly, how she’d briefly lose track of what she was saying and so pause or repeat a word or two. He noticed however and it made it all the more difficult to control himself, to resist her. But oh, how he imagined being with her. He saw it differently every time. Sometimes it was rough and hard, other times slow and gentle as could be. He saw her in control, he saw teaching her that giving up control was not always such a bad thing.
He groaned, finishing his bourbon and putting the glass down on the table. He shifted to adjust himself as he strained against his clothes. He tried to picture her and found it easy. He could see her dark, troubled eyes and her taunting smile. He could hear the rumble of her laughter. “Wanna play, Watcher-man?”
“Faith…” He groaned her name, tormented that she appealed to him so much. He opened her eyes, and she was still there, standing close, hands on her hips. It was blurred without his glasses but there she was.
She stepped closer. “Looks like you got a helluva problem there.” She chortled, moving to straddle his lap.
That was when he realised she was actually there. “Damn!” He pushed her away from him. “You aren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.” She couldn’t have been there long but he hadn’t heard the door or anything.
“So I hopped an early plane. Saw something I thought you oughta know, though gotta say, I don’t know for the life of me what it is now. All I can think of is how damn…uncomfortable you gotta be.” Faith easily resisted his push, allowing it to keep her where she was instead of pushing her away. One hand crept up his thigh to grasp the hardness between them and she wriggled with sheer delight when he moaned in pleasure. She leaned forward to kiss him deeply, her tongue touching his lips.
He couldn’t resist her kiss. His lips parted, his tongue touched hers. “We can’t.” Rupert protested when they parted.
“Why? Drunk as you are, you gonna remember a thing come morning?” Faith asked.
“I’m not that drunk.” Rupert protested with a shake of his head.
“You could be.” Faith leaned back, provocative and sensual, and grabbed the bottle.
Rupert shook his head. “No. I’d want to remember making love with you.”
Faith froze, stiffened slightly. She didn’t say anything, didn’t know how to respond. “Wh-who’s t-talkin’ about love or whatever? I’m just talkin’ about a good fuck.”
Rupert heard the confused stammer in her voice and wanted to weep. He heard the pain and suspicion of years of unkindness. He heard the years of her being a victim. “Faith.” He shook his head and her name was a prayer, a summoning of some kind – the invocation of a goddess. “I’m not that much of a fool. You’re worth too much to just get a taste of, then let go of.”
Faith squirmed and she took a deep swallow from the bottle. “You’re just drunk. Besides, maybe I’d let you take more than one ride.” She said with a smirk, putting the bottle down and moving to get off of him.
Now that it was real, Rupert couldn’t let go of her. He kissed her hard, his hand tangling in her hair, locking her in just the right position for his tongue to duel with hers. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her against him. Heat met hardness and they both groaned. “I want more than a ride.” He told her, feeling her respond to the growl in his voice.
“Don’t change your mind in the morning?”
Rupert kissed her again.