__The Bestest Slumber Party Ever__
By Beadtific
Giles lay Buffy on the bed, removed the sandals from her feet and kicked off his
loafers. He had an inkling that even with her assertions of a few moments ago,
she would be feeling shy right about now. The smile she was giving him certainly
wasn’t timid, but her hands clutched the covers. So, motioning for her to scoot
over, he crawled next to her on top of the bed, lay on his side and propped
himself up on one elbow. Buffy shifted her position to mirror his.
“Isn’t this the bestest slumber party ever?” she said in a slightly higher than normal
voice
“Mm,” he agreed, trailing his fingers over her cheekbone. “Feeling a bit shy?”
“Lord knows why, I practically dragged you in here.” Her hand
fiddled with the buttons on his shirt.
“I carried you.”
“Yeah, I know, and now I’m feeling all goofy again.”
“And that means?”
“Goofy; worried that I’m going to screw everything up.”
“Buffy,” Giles said, running a soothing hand down her arm. “The only
way you could ‘screw everything up’ at this point is to sprout tentacles or
summon a hellbeast.” She rolled her eyes and snorted, showing her tension was
eased, as as his plan. “I’m perfectly happy just to lie here and talk to you. I
don’t want you to feel, in any way, that I’m expecting more than you’re willing to give”
“I know, that, I do,” she said ruefully, snuggling closer, “I
just got the momentary this-is-really-happening jitters.”
“You’re not the only one.”
“Really?” she said pleased and incredulous.
“Really,” he replied, placing her hand over his pounding heart.
“Why?”
“Because, you daft woman, I’m lying on a bed with you. And I adore you.”
“Adore, huh?” she said, teasing skeptically, sliding a hand up his chest.
“Oh dear lord,” Giles said with exaggerated exasperation,
“will you ever listen?” He flopped over onto his back and covered his face with
his hands.
Buffy giggled, sprawled across his chest, and tugged his hands
away, “I’m listening now.”
“Very well, then,” he said, brushing her hair
back to see her face, “You are the heart of my life: I was already yours.”
Buffy’s eyes flew open and she bit her lip. Her head sank to
Giles’ chest and she hugged him tightly. Giles had a tiny moment of fearing he’d
said too much too soon, but, after a moment, she raised a shining face to look
deeply look into his eyes.
“You love me,” she whispered joyfully, finally believing it.
“I love you.”
“Mine.” she breathed, face full of love and trust.
“Yours,” he agreed huskily. It was such a relief to finally tell her.
She pulled him into a kiss to seal the bargain.
As kisses went, it was much like the others; starting softly,
but quickly getting out of hand into a passion-filled exchange. Buffy melted
against Giles and gasped a moan into his mouth. His hands traced the outlines of
her body; stroking her hair, trailing down her neck to gently graze the upper
slopes of her breasts and finally, pulling her hips closer to grind against his
erection. As he did, she moaned aloud, and broke the kiss. Sitting up, Buffy
straddled Giles’ hips and gasped, “Less clothes.”
Giles gulped and managed to gather his wits enough to nod. His hands continued their exploration,
gliding down her hips and sliding up under her dress to caress her thighs. He
cupped her bottom and started to tip her forward for another kiss.
“Easy big fella,” she said, amused. “Undressing will be a good part, too.”
Giles lifted his hands in surrender, so Buffy took the opportunity
to unbutton his cuffs. She took each hand, cupped it to her cheek and unbuttoned
the cuff while sucking on each individual fingertip. She happily watched his
breathing quicken and felt the tension of his restless body beneath her; he was
trying hard not to move, and not entirely succeeding. As each cuff came free she
gently scratched her nails over the sensitive skin of his inner wrist, then
guided his hand down the curves of her neck, breast, waist and hip to settle
again on her bare thigh.
When she had bared both wrists, Giles again
tucked his hands under her bottom and tilted her forward. “Come back,” he pleaded.
“Okay, but I’ve only just started,” she said teasingly, extremely pleased.
“Oh, dear lord,” he groaned, and they both cracked up.
“See, it’s never going to be the same,” she said laughing, lips an inch from his.
“No, it’s not,” he replied, then proceeded to take her breath away with a kiss.
It was sheer force of will that kept Giles from
flipping Buffy onto her back and ripping off both their clothes. Her scent
surrounded him; her hair drifted silkily across his throat, then his chest as
she unbuttoned his shirt and kissed her way down his exposed skin. To feel her
pressed against him was the most pleasant kind of torture. In order to even the
playing field a little, Giles slid his fingers down the outside of her thighs
and then soothingly back up, though this time angling his hands up the front of
her legs. She was so intent on her own perusal of his chest and kissing or
licking her way down his stomach; she didn’t seem notice. So he slid one hand up
a hip, while the other insinuated its way to where his trouser-clad arousal was
pressed against her. He rubbed his thumb across the damp silk of her panties
until he could find the slight cleft, then gently, but firmly stroked her. Buffy
moaned and bore down hard on his hand, and her nails raked across one of his
nipples, causing Giles to arch into her and groan aloud.
“Less clothes,” Buffy ordered again, when she recovered her breath and rolled off Giles onto her
side.
“Oh god, yes.”
“Giles, do you?”
“Yes, in the bathroom.”
“Go.”
“No, let me; wait until I come back” Giles said, as she began to unzip her dress.
Buffy watched him walk away with a breathless smile. He was amazing. She realized Giles’ was
allowing her to take the lead, which she was thoroughly enjoying; but she could tell how much he
was restraining himself. It was going to be fun to see how far she could push him.
Giles made his way to the bathroom feeling a bit addled. Buffy had
certainly overcome her shyness, and her reaction to his declaration of love was
going rather well; he couldn’t quite believe his luck. If tonight went any
better, he would be looking over his shoulder for signs of an apocalypse. He
gathered up the packet of condoms he had purchased in a moment of, he believed
at the time, wild, obsessively-prepared optimism. Score one for the Boy Scouts.
Giles glanced at the mirror and found himself liking what he saw – a happy man.
He ran a hand down his bared stomach and smiled deeply, thinking of the last few
moments. Still smiling, he turned back to his bed and to the woman waiting for him.
Buffy watched Giles come back to her, and was glad she was lying
down; his shirt was open and untucked, showing off his gorgeous, strong chest,
he was smiling at her in a way that was both happy and utterly, possessively
male, and she could see he wanted her. He was beautiful and powerful. \\This is
the man that loves me,// she thought. If she’d been standing, she was sure her
knees would have folded right up. He stopped at the edge of the bed and smiled
down at her. “You look deliciously rumpled,” he said.
“I am,” she replied in a sultry voice. She arched her back in a slow stretch, and enjoyed Giles’
obvious appreciation. “More rumpling?”
“If you insist,” he said softly,
leaning over and propping a hand on either side of her head. He leaned down and
began one of those slow, velvety kisses. Giles’ unbuttoned shirt fell away from
his body as he leant over Buffy, and she could swear she felt the heat of his
skin as he hovered over her. She ran a hand down his neck to his chest, combing
her fingers through the silky hair she found, and scratching lightly over a
nipple; he shivered a little, and she felt him smile against her mouth. She
wound one hand around his neck, drawing him closer to her, while with the other,
she trailed her fingers over his stomach, belt buckle, and palmed his erection
through his trousers. His sound of pleasure was muffled by her mouth, but a
wilder rhythm entered his kiss, and he pressed himself into her hand.
That was more than enough to encourage Buffy; she maneuvered herself to
her knees – using a good bit of her slayer flexibility not to break the kiss –
and let her hands drift up to his shoulders, where she began pushing Giles’
shirt down his arms. Giles, still intent on her mouth, let go of her long enough
to allow the shirt to drop to the floor. He straightened his back and pulled
Buffy up with him, his large hands circling her ribcage; thumbs gently grazing
her nipples through her dress. Her hands settled on his belt buckle. Giles broke
the kiss and rested his forehead on hers. “Are you sure, Buffy?”
Momentarily confused, Buffy laughed at the question – considering what
they’d been doing. Then it hit her: he was serious – giving her one last out.
“Hey,” she whispered, leaning to look into his eyes, “Giles.”
She could almost see him readying protective walls to set back into place. His eyes were
still closed and he was obviously picking up a few threads of self-control.
“Rupert.” His eyes snapped open at the depth of feeling in her voice. She was
smiling. “After this evening, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I
love you, too.” She chuckled, “Now who’s not listening?”
Buffy was expecting an expression of relief, joy, a smile, but what she got was a sad
little half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He cleared his throat,
“Well, ah, you didn’t quite say. Exactly.” He stroked her cheek and gave the
smile another go: slightly more successful. “Oh dear, I do have this backwards;
asking your intentions in the heat of the moment. I’m being a bit of an idiot.”
As he looked at his expression, Buffy suddenly realized what she was
hearing: fear. The remnants of all the times she’d carelessly hurt him had
suddenly whispered through his mind at exactly the wrong moment. Or maybe not:
she hadn’t really said, in so many words, that her deeper feelings for him were
anything but sudden.
“One day, about five months ago,” Buffy began
calmly, “I was sitting in our apartment in Rome, waiting for Dawn to come home
from school. I was just staring out the window at the piazza below, not really
registering anything that was going on – just listening to the water in the
fountain. I sorta zoned out, and the next thing I knew, you and Dawn and Xander
were coming through the door, and you all were laughing at Xander’s latest
language mishap. I didn’t know you were in town, and you were laughing, really
laughing, and it felt like,” she faltered, and glared up at Giles helplessly,
groping for the right words. His expression had softened, and he tilted his head
to the side in an apologetic gesture; he couldn’t help her with this.
“Rrrrg!” she growled, rocking up on her knees to grab him by the
shoulders. She gave him a little shake of frustration; it was so hard to find
the right words. “I looked at you, and it felt like, ‘Giles is home,’ though
obviously: flat in Bath. I saw you and it was like all my lights got switched
on, especially the little idea one over my head that said wouldn’t it be
wonderful if you were MY Giles.”
He gave a shy grin. “Oh,” he said,
lights beginning to flicker on in his head. “That’s when you said you were ready
for active field assignments, and offered to go with me to speak with the new council.”
“A shameless ploy to be where you were: yep.”
Five months ago. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said, lamenting over his sheer
obliviousness. He slipped his arms around her waist.
“I don’t think you were in a position to hear anything,” the slayer said with a painful half-smile
of her own, “Especially since the day after we went to Madrid and visited the
family of the girl who killed herself before we could explain to her she was a slayer.”
“Thought she’d become a monster,” the watcher grieved,
remembering the soccer accident that led to Pepita’s suicide. A girl had died,
and Pepita took her life the next day. The day after that, Giles and Buffy had
arrived; late again. He thought of the punishing schedule he’d set to reach the
remaining new slayers – hoping to avoid another tragedy – even though he was not
always successful. Buffy had stood beside him nearly every step of the last few
months, and there were days he was sure he hadn’t even spoken to her, and
relatively certain he’d never said a word of thanks. “I’m surprised I didn’t
frighten you off. Why tell me now?”
“I’m not a very patient person?” she
said with a silly smile. He snorted in the face of fresh evidence to the
contrary. “And it’s not like you haven’t seen me at my worst. Slayer seeking was
winding down. We had some time off, and you still weren’t waking up, or showing
signs of ever really snapping out of it. So, I sort of dropped some hints. You
were making me crazy.”
“Yes, the woman who threatened to rip my sweater
to shreds did sound a little off,” he said dryly.
“Careful, I could start with your pants,” she growled, tugging on his buckle.
Giles hesitated, “I was about to say, ‘I’d like to see you try,’ but I rather like
these pants.”
“I like you better,” she laughed, then sobered. “Really. Love you.”
“I know,” he said, voice husky, kissing her forehead. “I’m
sorry I was such a berk. I do love you so.”
“I get that; otherwise you wouldn’t have worried so much. Just hopped happily into bed.”
Giles grimaced in agreement while stroking her tousled hair, “You really are so beautiful.”
“Oh, and now he’s the sweet talker, trying to make up for months of not noticing me.”
“Shall I make it up to you?” he murmured in the voice that made her shiver. He bent to kiss her
neck.
“Nope.” He jerked back, startled. She grinned, pulled him off balance and flipped him to
the bed. “Seems to me like you may have been waiting for me longer than five
months. Correct me if I’m wrong.” Giles gave her a sheepish shrug; she was
right. “Then me first.” Buffy silenced him with a kiss, and once she had his
full, unprotesting attention, she broke away and smiled deeply into his eyes.
Bowing her head, she skimmed her hair down his chest, following it with her
hands. She sighed contentedly as she moved over him, the exlalation making a
third caress that shivered his skin. As she reached the belt buckle, Giles
imagined he could almost feel his beloved’s warm breath through the weave of his
trousers; his erection reasserted itself painfully.
“Hm,” Buffy said absently, having only released his belt buckle. “I’m forgetting something. Her
lovely hands stroked down his hips while she thought, fingertips occasionally
brushing against his arousal; Giles tried not to squirm. “Oh yes,” she said,
leaving him entirely and turning around, “You wanted this.” She looked over her
shoulder and lifted her hair off her neck, offering him the zipper of her dress.
Giles was instantly beside her, circling one arm around her waist and
resting his forehead against the nape of her neck. Buffy could feel his breath
hot on her skin as he slid the zipper the first six inches or so, then his
tongue left a cool trail down her spine as it followed the zipper to the small
of her back. Giles kissed his way back up her exposed back as he gathered the
skirt of her dress in his hands. When she felt his lips leave the nape of her
neck, Buffy raised her arms and shifted her weight so he could lift the dress
over her head. It sailed somewhere out of sight. Giles’ warm hand settled on her
stomach, and his fingers trailed down her spine to the clasp of her bra. He
hesitated, waiting for permission.
She didn’t give it. “Thanks,” she said with a cheerful whisper, “lie down, now.” Buffy waved a
hand toward the head of the bed. Giles complied with a not-all-together-complaining moan. She
sat beside him, glorious in rose silk and lace. He reached out to trace the
swell of her breasts above the lace of her bra. She batted his hand away. “No,
not yet.” she admonished with a smile, edging out of range. Her hands settled
again on his hips. “You’re over-dressed.”
Giles’ watched as his beautiful love unfastened his trousers and carefully eased the zipper
over his straining erection. She cupped her hand over him briefly, then hooked her fingers over
the elastic of his boxer-briefs and gently pulled them down. She was intent on not
catching any of his tender flesh on clothing, so her head was bent as she
carefully peeled his away clothing. The ends of her hair tickled his stomach,
and her warm breath washed over his penis as she uncovered it. It twitched in
response. “Shh,” she breathed, stroking his lower belly lightly with her
fingers. He gave a tiny moan and closed his eyes. She was going to tease him to
death: better to just accept it. “Up,” she whispered, and he lifted his hips so
she could ease his off trousers. Giles felt Buffy rise from the bed to guide his
pants down his legs. She didn’t return immediately, so he raised his head look
to for her. Buffy was standing at the end of the bed with her hands on her hips
and a dangerous smile. As he watched, she unclasped her bra and let it fall to
the floor. Then she crawled up the bed and his body until they were nose to
nose. She gave him a wicked smile, a gentle kiss and began to work her way back
down with lips, teeth and tongue. As he raised his hands to touch her, she
hissed at him, so he lay as passively as he could on the bed.
\\Actually, being devoured alive is quite pleasant,// Giles mused, until
Buffy’s mouth latched onto one of his nipples, while her fingers pinched the
other. Her breasts were grazing his belly, but she kept her pelvis well away
from his, and he made several unsuccessful attempts to lift his hips to meet
her. His lover smacked him lightly on the chest and set her nails around a
nipple in warning.
“Oh dear lord,” he groaned to her chuckles as she kissed and bit gently down his torso. Her nails
remained in place.
Buffy settled her weight on Giles’ thighs, straddling them. She ran her hands from his
navel down the flat plane of his belly, teasing the dark hairs that ran down his
stomach to the cluster of curls below. He was so beautiful.
She curled a hand around his velvety shaft and pumped slowly. Giles gave a strangled sigh.
Buffy laid a steadying hand against his hip. A tiny drop of moisture glistened
at the head of his penis. Gently maintaining tension on his foreskin, she
lubricated her thumb, and shifted her hand around to massage a point on the
underside, right at the base of the head. Another groan, and he thrust into her hand.
She nodded, and as if in confirmation, leaned forward and took him
into her mouth. She massaged the same spot with her tongue, as she slowly slid
mouth and hand over him. Giles panted and shuddered at her touch, and Buffy
trembled in answer, reveling in his response. After a few passes of her hand and
tongue, Giles clasped her head in his hands, stopping her. “No. With you,” he
managed to whisper.
Buffy released him, and let him pull her up for a
kiss. Giles shuddered again to feel the damp silk of her underwear glide over
his erection. Reaching down and grasping the sides of the garment, he ripped it
at the seams. She squeaked in protest as he rolled them to the side, slipping
this last barrier away. “I will take you shopping,” he promised earnestly, and
she laughed.
“Oh, Mr. Giles, the things you say,” Buffy said, batting
her eyelashes at him. They fluttered for real a moment later, as he cupped his
hand between her legs and lightly ground the heel of his hand against her. A
sharp jolt of pleasure shook her, making her gasp.
“Mm hm,” murmured Giles, rolling her onto her back and settling her head against a pillow. He lay
on his side, and smoothed his hand from the base of her neck, between her
breasts, down her belly to rest lightly over the curls of her sex. “I believe it
is my turn now?” he inquired politely in her ear, his fingers tracing faint,
innocent circles. Buffy flushed and buried her face in his neck with a whimper.
Giles slid his arm behind her neck and drew Buffy slightly closer, so
her head could rest more comfortably between his shoulder and neck. He slid a
gentle hand down his beloved’s tousled hair, the curve of her jaw, down her
throat. He traced the line of her collarbone and rested his fingertips in the
hollow of her throat, feeling there the fast pulse of her heart. “So beautiful,”
he murmured, tipping her chin up for a kiss. His hand continued quietly skimming
the line of her shoulder, under the curve of a breast, across her belly, and
down her hip to massage her outer thigh. She shivered, and melted against his
mouth with a sigh.
Buffy couldn’t control her trembling as her need for
Giles grew. Her breasts felt heavy, aching to be touched, and a warm steady glow
spread down her belly to pool between her thighs; Giles was touching pretty much
anywhere else. She whimpered against his mouth and arched under his hand, pleading.
His hand sketched up her hip, to trace again the curve under
her breast. As he ran a nail in slow, ever-smaller circles inward to her
aureole, Buffy’s shivers intensified. When her lover finally cupped her breast
in his hand, rolling her nipple with his fingers, she cried aloud.
Giles shifted their positions, moving his head closer to her breasts and tangling his
legs with hers. He traced the contours of her breast again, this time with his
fingertips, then paid the same attention to the other. Buffy shifted slightly so
she straddled Giles’ thigh. He pressed it gently against her and groaned to feel
how wet she had become. He rocked slightly as he took her nipple into his mouth,
biting gently; she moaned and angled herself for better contact with his thigh.
They rocked together for a few moments, her hands tangled in his hair, Giles
lavishing attention on one breast, then the other, as Buffy ground herself
against his leg and whimpered. The tenor of her cries changed as her movements
became jerky, and her back arched as she came.
Giles moved up and held her through the aftershocks, murmuring softly, and stroking down her
belly with a soothing hand. He moved his thigh, and replaced it with his fingers, needing
to test the silky folds. He was rewarded with a few more aftershocks as he
trailed a feather touch over her clitoris, several shudders as he caressed her
swollen labia, and a relieved sort of moan when he entered her with a finger. He
turned his head to smile into her eyes.
“Rupert,” she said softly, joy shining in her face.
“I rather like the way you say that,” he replied,
touched by the love in her voice. He moved the finger inside her and she thrust
against his hand. Her lashes flickered.
“Rupert?” a question this time.
“Yes, my love?”
“Please.”
“Yes,” he agreed, turning to the nightstand before shifting to kneel between her thighs.
Buffy gazed down at her lover as he sat between her legs, holding a condom packet in
one hand. As he ran the other wonderful hand over her stomach and down one leg –
moving it for better access - he looked remarkably like a man who was thinking.
She was pretty impressed by that.
Giles dropped the condom to the bed
and slid the now free hand up the inside of her other leg and underneath to cup
her bottom. He lay on his stomach and his first hand joined the second, as he
tilted her hips up slightly. “Do excuse me a moment,” he said, flicking his eyes
up at her at the last possible moment – they had a wicked gleam to them. Buffy
managed a grateful thought about thinking lovers as he nudged his nose between
her nether lips and lingered a moment, warming her with his breath.
He began a long slow caress of his tongue that ended in a sort of a flick, then a
hum as he pressed his lips against her swollen nub. It drew a shuddering yelp
from her and flashed a bolt of pleasure through her belly that curled her toes.
“Dear lord,” she cried in wonder. She could feel him chuckling down
there, and the vibrations of that were pretty good too. Then he did several
things with his tongue that were even better.
Giles felt Buffy reach for
him as her second orgasm overtook her. He quickly sheathed himself in the
condom, nudged her legs apart and plunged into her wet warmth. Another orgasm
shook her, and she curled her legs around his waist, drawing him deeper. He
touched his forehead to hers a moment and forced himself to keep still. Buffy’s
ran her hands over his shoulders and down his back. “You okay?” she whispered.
“A little too okay,” he said ruefully, “you feel wonderful.”
“Try conjugating a few Latin verbs,” she said helpfully.
Giles laughed, thinking of his attempts to distract himself earlier in
the evening and bent down to kiss her neck. “Where did you get that idea?”
“When my sandal slipped loose earlier, and I leaned on you to fix it,
you kinda moaned a little and muttered something clunky under your breath. It
makes sense now. I thought I’d hit a bruise or something.”
“Oh lord, how embarrassing,” Giles chuckled to himself. Buffy laughed with him, which caused
some internal muscles to clench. His laugh turned into a moan. “Oh my dearest
love,” he said, smiling into her face, “this is so sweet.”
“Mmm,” she agreed, stroking his cheek. Giles held her eyes with his as he eased into a
slow, rhythmic thrust. She sighed into it and matched his movements with her
own, smiling all the while. The deep happiness in her eyes was irresistible, so
he leaned in for a kiss. Kissing sent their rhythm into a deeper pitch, causing
Buffy to arch her back with a cry.
Giles pulled back a little and took a
pebbled nipple in his mouth, pulling from her an almost gutteral groan. She
thrust back hard, pulling him deep again, and looked up at him with wide, wild
eyes. She kissed him, almost brusingly, and Giles changed the angle of her hips.
Buffy cried out at that, and again with every thrust: the most enchanting sound
he’d ever heard.
Giles added his own rumbling moan to hers - exciting
her further – and her normal grace began to leave her, her movements becoming
uncontrolled. Buffy, whimpering, pushed on his shoulders, asking for more speed,
and he matched her movements. She tried to muffle her cries in his neck. “Let me
hear you, love, let me hear you,” he urged, and she screamed with joy as the
orgasm took her. “So beautiful,” he groaned, following her over the edge into his own.
Giles wrapped his arms around her and rocked from side to side
a moment as she shuddered back to earth. Still inside her, he tipped them over
onto their sides. Buffy’s trembling turned to sobs, and she once again she
buried her face in his neck.
“Sweetheart,” he said, cradling her, dismayed, “what is it?”
“I don’t know,” she said, pulling back to look at
him and laughing through her tears. “That was so, - we were so - I’m just so happy.”
“You’re so happy, you’re crying?”
“Uh huh. I think I love you a lot.”
“Oh thank god,” he sighed, wiping her tears and hugging her
in relief. “You scared me there for a moment.”
“Me too, I don’t know where that came from.”
“Lovemaking can touch something deep inside the psyche, and it bubbles out.”
“I think,” she said shyly, “I think I felt relieved.”
“Hopefully, not that it was over,” he teased gently. She smacked him on the shoulder.
“No, you goof, relieved I didn’t lose you. Relieved you’re mine.”
“I’ve been yours,” he reminded her tenderly.
“Which you forgot to tell me,” she said, poking him in the chest. “Completely.”
“Ow,” he winced, “You know now!”
“That I do.”
Giles kissed the tip of her nose and eased out of her. “Sleepy?”
“Mm,” she agreed, watching him walk across to the wastebasket. “Can I stay with you?”
He stopped and turned an incredulous eyebrow on her.
“Dearest,” he said, doing one of his one word/many meanings tricks – this time
surprise, indignation and the assertion that he wanted her nowhere else.
“Right,” she said sheepishly, getting up and crawling under the covers.
“You’ve really got to teach me how to do that.”
“Do what, love?” He joined her in bed and spooned her against his chest.
“Say a bunch of different things with just one word.”
“Oh, I think you do pretty well on your own. Say my name.”
“Giles,” she said pertly, and giggled when he growled and nipped her ear.
“Say the other one.”
“Rupert.”
“Hmm. Happiness, some satisfaction,” he kissed her ear as she giggled again, “oh, and you’re
quite smug.”
“Am not!”
“Aren’t you? I would be. You’re quite delicious, and I can’t wait,”
he rumbled, sprawling a hand across her belly, “to taste you again.”
“Okay,” she said, breathlessly, “maybe a little smug.”
He nuzzled her ear and neck lazily.
“Rupert?”
“Yes, love,” he purred in her ear.
“Wasn’t there a present?”
His hand drifted lower, tracing circles through her curls.
“In the other room. Shall I get it for you?” He tucked her bottom firmly against his reawakening
erection.
“Um, maybe later.” She pressed against him and shivered.
“I do love you so,” he whispered.
“Yes, please,” she gasped.
Giles laughed.
* * *