Giles came back from the kitchen to discover that the darkened room had cleared out except for Buffy. /Like rats from a ship,/ he mused ruefully. He and Buffy were capable of some world-class shouting matches, that was certain. He was not surprised that they had driven off the rest of the Scoobies into distant parts of the Summers household.

The storm outside was a steady, stiff wind now, rattling trees in the yard and splattering rain against the windows of the living room. The one fuel lamp in the room cast only a modest glow. The entire group, plus Joyce and Spike, had wound up here through an unlikely collusion of circumstances. The Order of Taraka was in town, gunning for someone in their group. If the siege weren't bad enough, a lightning storm had knocked out power all over town.

Giles had gone out earlier that night to speak with Lord Taraka, hoping to find some answers and some resolution to their conflict. Buffy had been livid when he'd returned and she discovered where he had been. Now he came toward the couch, pausing to douse the fuel lamp. They needed to conserve the kerosene, and it cast the room in night shadows as he joined her on the sofa. Buffy tucked her knees up to her chest and glanced over at him.

"I'm sorry I freaked," she said finally. "I just...I was so frightened, Rupert..."

"You don't have to apologize," he said, leaning his head back on the rear cushion. Their conversation that afternoon had resulted in her request to begin using his first name more often, to which he had readily agreed. "I'd have done the same if you had snuck out to see Taraka. And then I would have understood why you had to do it." She chuckled a moment.

"All right -- I understand...doesn't mean it wasn't stupid, though."

"I'll grant you stupid," he said dryly. "But I felt it was preferable to suicidal, insane and outright idiotic."

"What? My description? 'Cus all those words could fit..." she drawled. Giles laughed softly in the darkness.

"I'll live with the insults," he said. "As long as I get to live, and you do, too."

"That was kinda the game plan. Survivor on the Hellmouth. Think it'd make a good TV show?"

"I have blissfully managed to remain completely ignorant about that ridiculous program," he said loftily. "Don't jinx it." He sighed again, sitting forward to rub at the tense muscles at the back of his neck and shoulder. "Would've gotten more bloody sleep this week if I'd known we were going to be doing this."

"Ugh, I know," Buffy agreed. Her eyes were slowly becoming used to the darkness. "Want me to do you?" she offered, referring to the massage he was attempting to give himself.

"Beg pardon?" he said, startled.

"Your shoulders. Get your mind outta the gutter, Rupert!" she chuckled.

"Oh," he said, not sure if he were relieved or disappointed. Her intended meaning wasn't much less panic-inducing, though. "Well, I... Yes. It would be appreciated, actually." He didn't know how she wanted him to sit, and shifted slightly. He could only just make out her dark form in the faint moon glow from outside. She made him turn sideways and stood behind him.

"Tell me if I go too hard," Buffy warned him, still chuckling. She found his shoulders and started rubbing firm rhythmic circles, locating the knots then setting about to unkink them.

He'd forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of one of these, and the groan that slipped from his throat surprised and embarrassed him. He put one hand out to steady himself under her strength. It was unbelieveable. Delicious. He sighed heavily.

"God, that's wonderful."

Buffy grinned, pleased he was enjoying it.

"You're incredibly tense, Rupert...and it's not all in your shoulders." She bit her lip, blushing slightly at the thought of what she was going to propose. "Take off your sweater and lay down on your stomach on the couch."

He turned his head slightly, speechless for a long moment. He knew what she was asking -- he wasn't naive. The question was whether he wanted to play this game. Finally, without a word, he stood up and pulled the knit sweater over his head. He had on a dark T-shirt beneath, but might as well have been naked for how exposed he felt in the cool darkness.

He let the sweater drop to the floor by the couch with a muffled plop, and met her eyes for a moment in the shadows. He pushed his shoes off, outwardly calm in spite of the way his belly had knotted into a ball, and stretched out on the sofa as she had instructed.

She was glad for the dark to hide her surprised reaction. She'd totally expected him to demur and stutter and wasn't entirely prepared to carry this through. /I'm not going to be the one to back off, though./ She knelt on the floor beside the couch, running her hands down his back. Had it been Riley, she'd have had no qualms about sitting on the backs of his thighs to get the best reach of his back. But this was different...

He hadn't known if she would straddle him, and truthfully wasn't sure he was ready for something that intimate and suggestive. But she wasn't invasive, her hands gentle and deft at finding painful spots and smoothing them out. Some were tender and he gasped softly.

"Sorry," she whispered, "I'll be gentler..."

"No, it's all right," he said in a strained voice. He exhaled slowly, trying to relax more. It wasn't the tenderness of his muscles that made him stiff. He had long-practiced defenses against being close to people, even his Slayer. Especially his Slayer. "It's just been a while and it's...unexpected."

"Perhaps we should make this a habit after training?" she suggested. "I rub your back, you rub mine, huh?" He couldn't help but laugh, a tormented, wry chuckle. He knew how he would respond to a situation like that. "Okay, that sounded not good," she remarked.

"I'm sorry," he said, still laughing gently. "I just...mentally pictured that quite vividly and it's...well...probably not what you meant." She leaned down and gave him the best hug she could given their positions, her hands under his shoulders, pressing her body to his back.

"You really are being less inhibited with me, now, aren't you?" It was about the only thing she could trust herself to say.

"Do I have a choice?" he asked roughly, her sudden warmth against him driving rational thought away for a few seconds. "You think you can do this to me and not drive me crazy?" Buffy sat up, moving out of the embrace.

"I'm sorry," she was a little hurt at his tone. "I just...wanted to help. I can stop if you like..." His hand flashed out to grab her wrist before she could get up.

"You really have no idea, do you?" he whispered.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, cheeks flaming. That morning she'd had no idea. That morning he'd been Giles -- Watcher, father figure and old guy. After the duel and long talk today, he'd become Rupert, the interesting (and rather attractive) older man. Part of her wanted to play the innocent, oblivious teenager. But she'd promised him honesty this time.

"I...I'm getting an idea. I don't know...don't know if its the right one..."

Giles let go of her wrist, pondering his previous experiences with women and how they viewed a man's responses to various situations, including intimate ones.

"Would you like me to be very blunt?" he asked softly, amused.

"I -- " her voice cracked. "I don't know, Gi- Rupert..." She let out a breath she'd been unaware she was holding. "So much has changed already today." Was he saying what she thought he was? Could she stand to know? Could she stand not to? What the hell was going on? Where had this...almost crush? -- Attraction? -- come from?

He heard the fear and wished he could impart to her the excitement, the joy of this kind of game -- the way he was feeling it. She was new to it, obviously. He wished he could tell her straight out what her massage was doing to him, how men couldn't help but feel such contact.

"I know, it's all right," he said quietly. "Maybe it's too fast. But know that you can trust me. Don't feel like you're supposed to be an expert at this. No one is."

"I've always trusted you," she told him honestly, gingerly replacing her hands on his back. "Did you want me to keep going?"

"Absolutely," he whispered. He knew he could control any reaction he might have; she didn't have to fear him that way. But it felt too damn good to let her stop. "You have control of this, Buffy. It's whatever you want it to be."

/Yeah, but what is 'this'?/ she wanted to ask, not sure if she wanted the answer. "When I'm done, you've gotta sing for me, 'kay?" she said suddenly. That was nice and safe. Plus, Willow said he was really good. He groaned, half pleasure, half dismay at her proposal.

"I'm not good at solo performances," he said sheepishly. "Especially without my guitar. I get too nervous. It's easier when the audience is anonymous. But you can come to the coffeehouse sometime when I'm there." He purred suddenly when her hands found a delicate spot along the sides of his spine, reflexively stretching a little to encourage the touch.

"If the lights were on, I think this pout would be more effective," Buffy remarked distantly, not really aware she was speaking. Her eyes had widened. He was purring. Rupert purred. She hadn't realized that noise could come from a human throat. Curiously, she continued to explore that area with her hands.

"Ah, God...yes, right there," he sighed heavily, then went limp on the couch, letting his knuckles drag on the carpet over the side of the sofa. The hardness in his groin was impossible to ignore now, and he fought the urge to press into the couch to relieve the ache. Another low rumble wound its way out of his chest, a sound of pure hedonism. It had been such a long time since he felt this good. "God, don't stop."

"I won't," she promised in an intense whisper, feeling the conflicting emotions in her stomach. Curiosity, a little embarrassment, the desire to see how far this little 'game' would go...and something she didn't want to put a name to. Something that if she put a name to it would change things irrevocably. It didn't matter how turned on she was feeling at his groans if she didn't admit it to herself.

He closed his eyes fully, trying to understand her feelings through her strong kneading of his back and shoulders. /Going to spend longer than usual in the bathroom later, I suppose,/ he thought wryly, then sighed again.

"You really do have a talent for this," he remarked sensuously. "Shouldn't be a surprise, really."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice about an octave lower than usual. "Uh..." She forced normalcy back into her voice. "I mean, why not?"

"Slayers typically have great skill at anything involving fine motor control and the application of strength at specific points. It's part of what makes you such an excellent fighter."

He wasn't about to tell her that she was using more strength on him than most people would have liked for a back rub. But it was delicious, and seemed to only make the wave of arousal more intense. /Introduce a little pain and bondage into the mix, and I'm done for,/ he sighed wistfully. /God, one step at a time, old man./

"Ah. I see," she said, not wanting the silence to stretch on anymore. "Feeling any better?" she asked, leaning over to ensure the side of his back further from her got equal attention. He giggled, another of those uncensored laughs that she provoked with such innuendo-laden questions. He wasn't sure if she realized it or not.

"Yes. Bloody marvelous." He flinched a little as she reached for the somewhat neglected side of his back that was toward the couch. "Would you like me to turn around?"

"I'm glad, and, well, it'd be easier than stretching over you." Why was he laughing? Was it so funny that she was concerned about him?

He moved carefully to sit up, unobtrusively adjusting his genitals with one hand into a more comfortable position and hoping that the darkened room would hide it from her. He turned around to face the other end of the couch and stretched out again on his stomach.

Buffy fell back into the familiar pattern, her hands repeating the same massage-motions on this side which had been pretty much out of her reach. "You gonna return the favor when I'm done?" she asked, playfully.

"If you want," he said easily, smiling. "I can't promise to be as good at it, and I'm not as strong as you are." She found another tender spot, the angle of her hand from this side of the couch giving it a deep, probing quality that made him want to howl with pleasure. He tensed a little, then sighed through clenched teeth. The provocation of his more vocal tendencies was not what she needed to deal with right now.

"Don't shatter my illusions -- you're supposed to be good at everything, Rupert." She grinned, then paused. "You don't...mind me calling you Rupert now, do you?" She felt his tension, and assumed that must be a sore area of his back. Buffy moved both hands to the spot, probing it with her fingertips. He grunted at the suddenly focused attention of her fingers.

"It's a little strange coming from you," he admitted wryly. He was quiet for a moment. "I like the way you say it. I've never really liked the name, but no, I don't mind you calling me by it."

The spot she was probing suddenly flamed to life in his blood and he gasped, instinctively trying to recoil from her hand. "Ah, careful," he panted, wanting nothing more than for her to continue but unsure of the consequences.

"Sorry!" she winced, moving her hands back into more general motions. "I like the name Rupert. I read a totally corny, but cute, bodice-ripper romance novel once with a guy called Rupert in it." She chuckled. "And I have no idea why I just told you that!" Giles guffawed.

"Somehow I didn't picture you as the pulp romance reading type," he said. "But actually the name has a noble lineage. It's a corruption of Hrodpercht, which means 'bright fame.' The name Robert comes from it, too." He sighed with mock wistfulness. "Now why couldn't my parents have named me Robert?"

"Robert Giles." She tried the name out and wrinkled her nose. "Rupert is unique. Distinctive. There's lots of Roberts out there. If you were called 'Robert', you'd end up 'Rob', 'Robbie'...'bob'... 'bobby' even. You're so not a Robbie! I dated a Robbie once. Quarterback. Complete jerk."

"God, Bob would have been even worse," he groaned. "Where I grew up, a bobby is a policeman. And a bob is, well, among other things it's a fairly vulgar name for a portion of the male anatomy." She giggled.

"I like Rupert. It suits you. Plus, it's neat not to be the only one with a weird name." She had concentrated her efforts on his lower back by that point.

"Yes," he smiled. "I have to admit I wasn't sure to expect of a Slayer named 'Buffy.' No more bizarre than 'Ripper,' I suppose."

Her hands had moved lower, their heat palpable through his light shirt. He wondered for an astonished moment if she were going to move past the waistband of his trousers. Instead she found that spot that seemed to connect directly to his cock, and he couldn't stop a coarse growl at the raw delight that made him harden even more. Buffy shivered at the almost primal purity of the sound, hoping her hands didn't shake.

"How did you end up with that nickname, anyway?" she asked, swallowing and cursing inwardly at her breathy voice. The softness of her words made him shiver, but he answered with sheepish honesty.

"One of my mates started calling me that after I cut some poor fellow in a knife fight," he said. "Plus I was notorious for biting in bar fights."

"You're a biter?" she exclaimed. "Isn't that kind of ironic for a Watcher?" A pause. "At least, I think its ironic. Irony's confused me ever since that Alanis song." He shrugged, as much as was possible in his present physical position.

"It was a long time ago," he said. "I save biting for special occasions now."

"Ah..." she managed. How did you respond to that?

"Plus I think irony is in the job description," he said sarcastically. "As in 'cosmic' or 'tragic.'" He was trying to distract himself. Her hands felt beyond good, but it was making something long-silent rise up within him. He wasn't sure how he wanted this to pan out. He was more than ready to do anything she could possibly suggest. She, however, was clearly still struggling with the basic reality of any kind of intimacy with him.

His words felt like a slap. Tragic irony?! What was that supposed to mean? Did he still hate being a watcher? Still entertain dreams of what had he said once? Being "a fighter pilot or possibly a grocer"?

"I'm sorry..." Her voice shook and that sudden warm sting in her eyes that heralded tears came. The idea that he regretted the very foundation of...of everything...was crushing and overwhelming. God...

"Good Lord, whatever for?" he asked, genuinely surprised. Her head was swimming and she felt an almost suffocating tightness in her chest.

"I thought..." Buffy shook her head vehemently. "It doesn't matter. I was wrong obviously," she chuckled bitterly.

"Buffy..." he said gently. "Not everything is your fault, love. God, you have enough burdens to carry without taking ones that aren't yours. I don't regret being your Watcher. Is that what you think?" She nodded again, not able to speak past the lump in her throat.

"Bloody hell," he sighed. He shifted out from under her hands and sat up on the sofa, leaning forward to take her face in his hands where she knelt on the floor. "Buffy, don't you ever, ever think I don't want to be your Watcher. It's true there was a time when I resented my destiny. That was before I met you. I didn't understand then...what it meant to have this duty. I don't want any other life than this."

Utter relief freed the tears that had collected in her eyes and with a tiny sob, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. The intensity of her reaction to the idea that he resented his duty had frightened and surprised her. Buffy didn't even want to imagine life without him there. For a moment it had been the day before prom with angel again -- only worse. He got down on the floor with her and held her to him fiercely.

"Shh, it's all right, love. God, you take on too much, sweet one. That's supposed to be my job." He just held her as she sobbed, wondering where he had gone so very wrong that their relationship had reached this point. "You're my life. Don't you see? It can't be any other way. I'm bound to you forever and I'll kill anyone who tries to separate us." He realized how completely he meant the threat, his voice rough. Mother of God, what was it about a crying woman that gave men a hard-on?

"I don't want it any other way, Rupert." She shook her head, still holding on to him like a life-line. "I told you before I can't do this without you, and fuck, I don't want to..." She sniffled, and continued. "Can I tell you something and you have to promise you won't react badly?"

He thought of making a joke about any of the other million things she had sprung on him over the years, but she was too fragile right now. One misstep and he'd lose her.

"Anything, love."

"The only time I've been as scared as I was fighting Angelus..." she bit her lip, "was when I thought Travers was gonna make you leave." She was trembling still, that admission not coming lightly. Her eighteenth birthday had been an issue she'd avoided religiously. The memories were too painful.

"Blast it, I should've killed that bastard," Giles growled. "Damn me, I should never have done that to you. If I could have one thing to do over in my life, it would be to tell the Council to sod off when they'd told me to administer the Cruciamentum." She touched his face.

"It doesn't matter, Rupert...it's over. The whole thing -- forgiven. I owe him at least one big thing, which is why I didn't hunt him down," she drawled.

"What could you possibly owe that man besides a sword in the gut?" he asked, shivering at the light brush of her fingers on his cheek.

"I found out you loved me that night," she told him with a smile.

He didn't dare move, too close to her already where they touched. /Damn, what happened to our lovely game?/ he wondered, angry at himself. /Have I bollixed this up so thoroughly? What could I possibly do or say to makeher understand how much I worship her, even before I realized that was what I was doing?/

Damn. He'd tensed up. Buffy thought she'd been so close to finding out the answer to that question she was afraid to even form. Was he feeling merely 'a father's love'? If it was that and she found it out now she'd be able to backpedel without too much humilation. If it were otherwise...a world of possibilities would open up. That thought both scared and compelled her.

"Learning that made all the shit worthwhile, Rupert," she told him. "It was nice to find out that I wasn't just a," she affected a bad British accent, "'bothersome girl.'"

Giles giggled again, relieved at her humor. He was never sure what to do to alleviate her insecurities, but when she stopped worrying about that, she was powerful. He'd tried for ages to figure out how to get her to harness that consciously, instead of just in moments of dire need.

"Sometimes I wish I had a videotape of his expression when you told him off," he said. "You have no idea how many people have wanted to say to him what you did."

/No! Off-topic!/ she cursed him mentally. "I could've kicked his ass, powers or not. I almost did anyway. Asshole."

"I probably would have helped you," Giles murmured, relishing the thought of it, "and told him where he could stuff his 'father's love.' Sometimes I think he knew full well and just said it to annoy me."

Buffy's eyes widened, and she felt her breath catch. So. She had her answer. Question was now what to do about it. She felt oddly unworried. Pleased. Thrilled even. A smile unconsciously spread across her lips and she let her head rest on his shoulder.

"So...you don't think of me as your daughter, then?" she took his hand intertwined their fingers. He closed his hand firmly in hers, his other hand clawing possessively into her back.

"Do you really think that a man with a father's love for you would have let you give him such an exquisite, erotic back rub?" he asked in a low voice. A little thrill passed through her.

"I've never really known what to think," she admitted honestly. "And, in my own defense, I offered in all innocence." She leaned back into his touch on pure instinct.

"Hm, I know," he said, smiling and loving her unconscious response to his aggression. "But what you awaken in me is far from innocent. You're not innocent, either -- just afraid. I don't want you to be afraid of me, Buffy. But I won't mislead you about the kind of man I can be once you get beneath the armor."

"I could never be afraid of you," she told him intently. "Ripper is maybe...your answering, uh...element to the darker side of a Slayer. Even there you balance and match me, Giles," she mused, a little incredulous.

"You were closer than you realize to finding some of it earlier," he said, remembering with a shudder the roar that had wanted out of him at how much she had turned him on. "I'm just careful about that part of me." She nodded, understandingly.

"This is so strange," she remarked. "I thought I'd feel more uncomfortable than this, you know?"

"Are you less nervous, then?" he wondered. "I'd been hoping you would...play with me." He didn't know how to explain -- that he liked the thought of her using him for her own pleasure. /God, she'd never understand that,/ he thought with a sigh. /She has no idea she's the dominant one./

"I am less nervous," she affirmed, then licked her suddenly dry lips. "And that sounds...intriguing. I just...I..." She gestured, confused. Part of her was up for whatever he had in mind. The other part was still reeling from the day's events. "I rushed into thing with Riley...with Parker. This -- whatever it is we're finding here -- is so much more sacred. I don't want to ruin things by being too eager." She moved to sit on his lap, hoping he'd understand. Or even better, convince her otherwise.

"Depends on whether you'll still respect me in the morning," he said hoarsely, shifting to let her get between his legs and not minding in the slightest. His erection had waned a little, but remained a thick heaviness between his thighs. The ache there had become a subliminal, warm hunger. "I won't push you," he said. "You should take time to know what you want. I'm not going to make that decision for you. Yes, I'm ready. I admit that. But we'll go slow if that's what you need."

"Thank you," she murmered, taking his hands and wrapping them around her waist. She tilted her head back to meet his eyes, exposing her long throat. "What...what is it you want...need from me?" she asked, unable to fight the burning curiosity. He slid his hands around her back, making no secret of enjoying it.

"You've had to get used to men being afraid of what you are, I suppose," he said quietly. Her gaze was steady and calm, pale ice that lanced into him and made him want to pin her to the floor. "I crave it. Your strength and fierceness." He bent his head unconsciously to her throat, catching himself and hesitating before biting her. He sighed shakily. "You could own me if you wanted to."

"Oh God, Giles..." Buffy whispered. Everything was so overwhelming. To not have to hold back a part of herself? The very idea was intoxicating. She shivered, tilting her head a little further back to encourage him. He already knew her better than anyone. This sudden sexual awakening seemed as natural as breathing. Had it always been inevitable?

He needed no more than that silent invitation, and spread his jaws wide to take her throat. He was cautious, gentle with the bite, but the gesture was enough to tear a groan from him. A sharper nip under her jaw, and then he nuzzled her softly while trying to control his hard breaths.

She'd tensed when first letting him bite her, wary. She was a Slayer after all; biting shouldn't be as toe-curlingly sexy as that. She hissed in her breath at the second, shivering.

"Is this...common between Watcher and Slayer?"

"Which?" he murmured, brushing his lips down her neck. "Biting or making love?"

"Making love..." Her words came out in a moan at the sensations. "Do Slayer and Watcher often become lovers?"

"It's not unheard of," he said distractedly. God, he wanted to taste her -- he kissed her neck, over her pulse, licking softly. His purr held a note of frustration, too many carnal and psychological wants competing. Everything seemed to be in a warm blur, the darkness adding to the strange combination of languid sensuality and pure urgent need.

"I wish I could see you clearer..." She got to her feet, suddenly, a little shakily, and took his hand, gesturing to the sofa with her head. He obeyed slowly, not sure how she wanted him on the couch. He sat back against the cushions, knowing she would tell him if it wasn't what she had in mind. "I wasn't in a good position to reciprocate down there," she offered, anticipating the question in his eyes. Reciprocate? He inhaled sharply. God, she couldn't mean...

Buffy returned to her place; this time facing him, straddling his lap. She bent her head and brushed a soft kiss to his lips, almost experimentally. There was no plan here but to follow her impulse, her instinct. And the joy of feeling free enough to do that! To let herself go and not have to worry whether she'd be caught or not. This was Rupert...Giles...and he'd never let her down.

He opened his mouth to her immediately, wanting this with an urgency that scared him. His hands went to her flanks unconsciously, feeling the lean muscles in her thighs and holding her firmly against his groin. It was only her weight that stopped him from rising up to devour her mouth savagely.

Buffy gripped his shoulders tenderly, with that light grip indoctrinated into her. The curiousity in her kiss turned to see what reactions she could provoke, and she bit down on his lower lip. The thought of her mother or Spike catching them occured and she smirked inwardly.

Her weight didn't stop him this time, and he surged to his feet, holding her tight against him as he ravaged her mouth. He didn't know what it was that had provoked him so, nor did he care, as a growling whimper emerged from his throat.

Buffy quickly curled her legs around his waist to avoid being dumped on her butt, more than a little taken aback at the sudden movement. To suddenly see the man she'd always viewed as the epitome of calm this completely out of control...it surprised her just how intense Giles could be. And how erotic she found it.

It was too much, too much emotion and need so recently uncovered. Giles broke the kiss with a gasp, holding her to him and excruciatingly aware of her legs around him.

"God, this is...I only just realized today that I'm in love with you," he whispered shakily. "What you said before, about me being able to match the dark aspects of your nature..." He swallowed hard. "If you want to play with me...tease me...I would love that, but I need to know if you want me to keep hold of it or do whatever I feel." Buffy unhooked her legs to stand on her own two feet, only just managing.

"Too much too soon, Giles?" she asked gently. One small hand stroked his face, marvelling at...at everything that had happened that day. They'd gone from tension to...well, more tension but of a different sort.

"I don't know," he admitted softly. "Usually I'd say no...but that's only if I knew you could handle me like that." He took a deep breath, calming himself carefully. His heart was racing, his hands trembling where he embraced her. "I can keep control, if you're curious." He smiled slightly. "I think you like provoking me, see how much you can ruffle my feathers. You're wondering what's going on, what it is you're seeing in me right now." He laughed quietly, the sound barely a grunt. "Believe me, I would like to show you. I can teach you, if you trust me. I won't get angry if you tease me and then leave me wanting. I enjoy that, actually."

Buffy studied him quietly for a moment. Had she ever really known him at all? Part of her wanted to break down and cry at the sheer rightness of everything she was discovering. Part of her wanted to take him up on that amazing offer. But the thought of her mom or Spike catching them seemed...less appealing when she thought about it rationally.

"You know me too well," she said finally, stepping in closer to hug him. "I am wondering so much...mainly how I missed seeing this in you for so long, where this is gonna go, how it's gonna change things..." she mused. "You're amazing. And I'd love to match you sometime -- somewhere we won't have to worry about waking my mom or spike." She smiled wickedly. Oddly, the thought of Riley failed to cause any guilt pangs.

"You could hardly expect to see something in me that I'd been hiding from myself," he murmured ruefully, hugging her. He understood her ambivalence, but the on again, off again situation was like having his guts ripped out and he wanted ferociously to just fuck something. "And I suppose I neglected to mention my exhibitionist streak. Is there something else you'd like to do? Or do you want to let it go for tonight?"

"Giles," she looked up at him, her eyes both reassuring and a little wild. "Trust me, I'm not going just forget all this happened by tomorrow. I'm..." she licked her lips in a nervous gesture. "I'm as turned on as you are, believe me." She clasped his hands. "I just...I want us both to be sure. What if this is a spell or a dream or something? And if it's not, we've both got a lot of thinking to do, I think. You're too important for me to risk everything we've shared just 'cus I'm incredibly horny, ya know?"

"I know," he said gently. "I think that's why I was in denial for so long...I didn't want to destroy our friendship. But I tell you, if this is a dream, then by God I'd cast caution to the wind."

He sat down on the couch again, still holding her hands as she stood before him. "I can't tell you for sure that this isn't a spell, but such spells can't force what isn't already there." Her admission of being aroused surprised him, even though the truth of it was obvious. "And believe me, love, I'm trying very hard right now to keep this rational. If you think going without for a couple of weeks is bad, you should try it months at a time."

He was silent for a moment, gazing into her pale eyes that were subdued in the darkness. "Buffy, you have great power. I said before that you could own me if you wanted to. Whatever you've seen in me tonight, whatever else might come, you can tame it. You have that strength, if you have the courage to use it."

"Are you crazy? Why would I wanna tame that?" she blurted out without thinking. "God, Giles, nothing's ever turned me on as quick!" she exclaimed, kneeling beside his feet. With a sharp growl, he reached out to haul her into his lap again, one arm going around her waist and the other tangling his fingers in her hair to make her look at him.

"Do you think I would surrender to anyone but you?" he demanded. "Damn it, don't you understand what you could have? Don't you realize I'm already yours, body and soul?" Her eyes flashed.

"Can't you see how badly I want that? God, I never even considered this before tonight and...and already..." She sighed heavily. "You're offering me something so..." She gestured, trying to articulate something. "I feel like...like I'm finally finding where I belong, Giles! And I don't wanna fuck it up!"

It was so clear to him what their relationship was, but her own fear kept them both in agony. With great effort, he withdrew his hands and leaned back into the couch to just look at her.

"I'm offering no less than what you deserve," he hissed, his hands spread slightly. "It isn't your nature to be the submissive one in a relationship, It's not my nature either...except with you." He took one of her hands and placed it on his chest, holding her palm firmly in place over his pounding heart. "Feel this? You can feel beyond the physical sensation if you try. You know me already, if you just look. Of course I can't give you the certainty you need. All I can do is accept whatever you decide. Don't feel that you owe me anything. It isn't so. Just..." He was surprised by the emotion that came up suddenly, choking him. "Just let me know that you want to...eventually." Buffy reached out one hand and gently pulled his glasses off, before cupping his face in her hands.

"I love you. That much I am sure of." She leaned forward, brushing a kiss to his forehead. "The thought that I'm 'being untrue to Riley' has..." She shrugged. "It seems inconsequential...'cus I feel like I'm finally being true to myself. Does that make any sense?" He shivered at the press of her lips at his temple.

"Of course," he rasped. "You're free to choose." Her hands on his cheeks and jaw were burning him, conveying that mixture of tenderness and a Slayer's reined strength that he so relished. "I feel like I could never say I loved you often enough," he said. "It's true in so many ways." He closed his eyes wearily. "God, just tell me what you want, love. Even if you don't know, tell me that." With another long sigh, he took her hands and kissed her palms softly. "I'll give you all the time you need to think about this...but you're driving me mad." His voice broke. "If you won't touch me, then let me touch myself."

He didn't know if she would understand. He wasn't even sure he was making sense. But he had to do something, and soon, or he was going to scream.

"C-can I...uh, never mind...sure...you uh, do your thing..." She got up from his lap, her mind almost going into overload at the imagery his words evoked. /Is it suddenly hot in here, or is it just me?/ He shifted slowly back against the end cushions, turning a little to bring one leg up on the couch with his knee bent.

"What?" he asked softly, intently, his eyes never leaving her. "Can you what?" She was glad of the darkness to cover her blush -- what would he have thought if she'd actually blurted out that impulsive desire to watch?

"Doesn't matter...I'm uh...I'll give you some space...call me when you're done?" She edged to the door.

"You're not going to stay?" he asked, amused by the tremor of excitement in her voice. He wanted so badly to tease her. "What fun is it by myself?" Buffy groped for the doorframe to steady herself.

"Oh...okay...I'll...I'll just...sit over here..." Her heart was pounding out of her chest.

"Tell me," he growled. "Tell me you want to watch." He wanted to laugh with delight, and wondered how well she could really see in the darkness.

"Of course I do..." her voice came, perhaps a tad breathless. "I can't really see much...but...oh God," she licked her lips again unconsciously, "to listen...'cus you know I'm here..." She let out her breath shakily. "Who wouldn't wanna watch the Watcher?" she quipped, trying to keep some measure of control -- over herself or the situation? Even she wasn't sure which. "Unless Olivia would object..." She curled her lip at the other woman's name. Giles laughed low and wicked.

"She had her chance already and lost," he replied, his voice pure heat. "She never had the nerve to deal with who I am." He gave in at last to the shattering urge to grope himself, closing his hand hard between his legs and letting out a shuddering groan. "So do you want to hear me? Shall I talk? Make noise for you? Would you like that?"

"Yes..." Buffy admitted. She felt a surge of joy at the knowledge that the older woman was out of the picture for good. But the feeling was soon eclipsed by the wave of desire. "Please?" His free hand clenched into the back of the couch as he fondled the bulge in his trousers.

"Owwwrrrrr, God I love being watched. I'm aware of the irony." He giggled. "Jesus, it hurts," he breathed, and unzipped his pants quickly to slip one hand inside to relieve the throbbing ache. "Do you want me to do something in particular? Want to know anything?" It took a moment for her to find her voice,

"Just do what feels good, Giles...and...remember I'm here...I'm watching you..." she told him in a low voice. "And I'm enjoying every second..."

"Everything feels good," he rumbled. "You have no idea how much it excites me to know you're enjoying this. Fuck, I need two hands for this," he laughed unsteadily. His other hand dove into his trousers. "Got boxers on today," he remarked in a strained voice. "Oh, God...one hand squeezing my balls -- " He gave a sharp, quickly strangled cry. "Don't know whether to go fast or slow," he panted. "If you ever wondered, I'm uncircumcised. Ah, shit that's good..."

Buffy's breath was coming irregularly and she shifted about in the chair, utterly enraptured. His voice -- she doubted that she'd ever heard anything as sexy. Was it twisted of her to find this so arousing?

"Do you normally prefer fast or slow?"

"Each one has its own advantages," he purred. "Slow is maddening...like a faint tickle that gets worse and worse until I feel like I'm going to tear the walls out. Nnnrrrggghh, yes... Slow is seeing how many times I can go to the brink without going over." He was trying to go slow now, to prolong this ecstasy as much as he could. "When I come like that, it's thorough, like having every ounce of energy drained out of me. "Fast is...like flashfire. A blaze of heat...sharp and bright...ending with an explosion so intense I sometimes black out for a moment." He had to stroke himself now, sliding his foreskin back and forth over the head of his cock and making him shiver.

"What's our first time together going to be like, Giles?" she breathed, ignoring the impulse to follow his lead and touch herself. "You gonna take me fast or slow?" she whispered, partly for his benefit, and partly because the need to know was overwhelming.

"Depends on my mood at the time, I suppose," he growled through clenched teeth. "And how much I think I can make you scream with one or the other. There's so much I want to do besides just fuck you." The pleasure in his the pit of his stomach pierced him warningly and he paused in his stroking for a moment to catch his breath. "God, just thinking about that brings me close... I want to find out what you taste like...bury my mouth between your legs and make you beg." Buffy shivered almost violently, a light whimper escaping her lips. The tone of his voice...the coarse and blunt language...

"God Giles..." She wriggled a bit on the chair again. /Focus on him/ "Now who's being a tease? You know I want you...Right now I'm trying to imagine how we'd fit together...how great you'd feel inside me..."

"How big do you like them?" he wondered, trying to give her the tactile sensation of his cock filling her, spreading her open. Her involuntary whimper made him grin madly. "And I know how I'd feel inside you...I can almost smell you from here. Wet heat, tight around me, your legs around my back and your nails across my shoulders..." A shaky sigh, her imagination and his voice driving her crazy.

"Somehow I think the phrase 'wild ride' would be redefined. Think we could lose control with each other?" He was making restraint next to impossible.

"Want to find out?" he challenged roughly, then chuckled. "Better not to unless you're on the pill. Want to come with me, love? I'll wait for you. Better yet, I can be over there in a heartbeat and show you how much I like to go down on a woman."

"Oh dear God..." Buffy breathed. "That sounds..." She forced down her own need. "Come for me, first, Giles? You've wanted to for a while..."

"Got to take my shirt off first," he panted, taking his hands out of his boxers long enough to drag the shirt over his head and throw it across the room. "This'll be a bit messy," he giggled, groaning again as he returned to rubbing and stroking his cock and balls. "Oh, son of a... You want me fast, love? Oh God, I'm so close...God oh God..."

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood at the sounds of his release. It had beem a long time since she'd been this hot and bothered...the sensation was heady.

"Oh Giles..." she whispered finally, touched that he'd let her listen in spite of her own frustration having grown tenfold. He threw his head back with a strangled moan, trying to keep quiet.

"Coming," he gasped. "Coming for you, love..." The orgasm tore from him like a knife of ecstasy, and he panted and whimpered at the unbearable deliciousness of it. "Oohhh Gooodddd yeeessssss..."

Her skin flushed and she bit down more on her lip, fighting her own whimper of appreciation. Buffy decided to stake Spike if he emerged and to punch out her mother. She was damned if anyone would make something sordid out of this.

"Thank you, Giles..." she spoke softly after a moment.

"Oh, you're so welcome," he groaned, letting out a long sigh as the climax let go and left him sated. "Fuck, that's sweet." He swallowed audibly, feeling his seed cooling on his chest and belly. "Want something, love?" he asked hungrily. "Want me over there to cool your fire with my mouth and tongue?" Buffy nodded. Then, unsure if he could see her nod, spoke shyly.

"Please..."

He used the sleeve of his sweater from the floor to clean most of the stickiness from his abdomen. It took only a moment, and then he was getting up with a low growl, skulking toward her to fall to his knees in front of the chair where she sat.

"I can hear you breathing," he said, reaching for her jeans to unbutton them and unzip the fly. He wasn't going to give her time to be embarrassed, and laughed quietly, eagerly as he leaned forward to kiss her stomach softly before dragging her jeans and panties down in one motion. The suddenness surprised her, and she gasped, tensing slightly before consciously calming herself.

"Well I'm not going to stop breathing, Giles..." she shot back in a tremulous whisper.

"You will in a moment," he promised, tossing her clothes to one side and sliding his hands under her buttocks to pull her to the edge of the chair. He held her legs open gently but insistently for the few seconds before he dove between them and buried his mouth and nose in her sex. She grabbed the arms of the chair, gasping in her breath and holding it for a few seconds, before again consciously relaxing herself and letting it out.

"Man of your...your word..." she remarked.

He just growled in answer, licking slowly from her opening to her clit, savoring the primal, musky taste and scent. She was hot and swollen, so wet he hummed with pleasure. He teased softly at her clitoris, feeling her flinch and smiling to himself.

Squeezing the arms of the chair, she whimpered softly -- ever aware of the others in the house. Rigid control had been something she'd first adopted with Parker -- aware she could break him -- this time, she just applied it to her vocal responses, not wanting to insult him.

"Fast or slow, love?" he asked softly, lapping at her opening in long, considered strokes. "Or are you beyond making a decision that requires that much thinking?" He nipped gently at one of her labia.

"Uh huh..." she nodded, hissing in her breath and trembling.

"Fast it is, then," he warned, and started suckling at her clit, breaking the pattern with occasional fierce licks and probing hungrily into her opening with his tongue. She clung to the arms of her chair, past coherance. A wall of sensation replaced thought and inarticulate noises came rapidly from her mouth. Her hips bucked involuntarily to meet his mouth.

"Giiles.." she gasped. He held her hips firmly, thrusting his tongue in and out of her, feeling her carefully to find out what would drive her over the edge. "Pleaseohpleasegiles..." she groaned, letting go of the chair for fear of crushing the arms.

He knew the steady rhythm was what she needed, and kept it hard and quick. He made a soft sound of encouragement, wanting nothing more than to feel her come. Buffy arched back into the cushions. Quickly, she turned her face into one to stifle the entirely too loud noise she made as orgasm hit her abruptly. Her sudden release gave him tremendous satisfaction. That he could cause this in her! That she would come for him so readily and easily. He was careful as she peaked, concerned it would be too sensitive, and gentled his nuzzling as she came down.

"More?" he asked softly.

"I'd wake the house..." she chuckled softly, trying to catch her breath. "Giles, I...that was..." She licked her lips and tasted the blood there. "I love you..." she told him.

"Oh, I love you, Buffy," he said with a soft laugh, drawing back to look up at her. He massaged her thighs slowly, feeling how much she had tensed up in her effort to stop from screaming. He licked his mouth pleasurably. The taste of her would remain with him for a while, reminding him. "We'll have to try sometime to see how many you can have. And how loud you can be."

"You'll get no argument from me on that one," she joked, her right hand covering his and clasping it.

"I'll have to show you how much I like to yell," he promised gruffly, grinning. "I only wish I were strong enough to hold you down for it." He sighed, relaxing for the first time in almost an hour. "So now what?" he mused. "Shall we wake Xander and Anya to keep watch and go to bed?"

I completely forgot about those two," Buffy said, chuckling. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were already awake with the noise I made." She groped on the floor for her jeans. Giles handed her clothes to her, then hitched his own trousers up where he had left them in a state of disarray before.

"They were probably already awake shagging," he said dryly.

"Good -- then they'll be easier to get up." She dressed quickly. "Giles? Stay with me tonight? In my room?"

"I'd love that," he confessed. "You're not worried about what the others will think? Your mother?"

"I don't care what they think," she decided. "I love you Giles and I'm not ashamed of it," she told him. Wry amusement crossed her face. "I'm back to 'Giles' aren't I? The 'Rupert' thing didn't last long."

"It's what you're familiar with," he said, not offended. "It's how you know me best. And you don't know how much it pleases me that you're willing to be open about us." He touched her face, rubbing the back of his hand over her smooth skin. "I won't be shy about it, either. That might surprise a few people...but I don't care." She leaned into his touch.

"If I wasn't going to be open about us, then...tonight would have meant nothing...and... Are you sure now? It's not gonna be easy." She took his other hand in her own. "People aren't gonna understand, Giles..."

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," he said seriously. "I know how it might be...I'm older than your own father. But perhaps some of them will see past that. I don't think Anya will care at all. Besides, at least I was born in this century, unlike your first boyfriend."

"We though you two would never finish," came an annoyed voice from the doorway into the den. Buffy and Giles both turned, startled, to see Anya and Xander hovering there in the darkness, their forms barely discernible. It had been Anya who spoke. "And you're right, Giles, I don't care. As long as you keep your orgasms quieter from now on, it's all good."

"Oh Lord," Giles groaned softly. Buffy dragged him to his feet.

"Come on," she said. "At least we don't have to worry about them falling asleep."

"Ha ha," Xander said sarcastically, and the Watcher and Slayer made their way up the stairs. They heard one last remark from Anya before closing Buffy's bedroom door:

"Can I be the one to tell Riley?"