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Joan	By : QueenB Category: > Buffy/Giles Views: 54535 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The others ran a fair distance until one of the vamps tackled Randy, sending him flying. Joan turned back and dusted the vamp before he even scrambled off the ground. Rupert brought up the rear and, as another vampire came closer, he raised his sword menacingly. “You might want to watch how you wave that thing, old man. You could put your eye out.”
Rupert maintained a casual stance. “Actually, I had something more lethal in mind.” Without another word, he began feinting and thrusting with the blade. The vampire leapt back and then advanced more cautiously.
Randy and Joan were dealing with the others rather handily. Randy had kept a spike for himself and managed to dust a few of the bloodsuckers. The vamp facing Rupert thought it saw an opening and charged but Rupert had deceived him. In a lightning move, he decapitated the creature and watched in amazement as it exploded to dust in front of him.
He turned to his fellow fighters in triumph. “Did you see that? I just--” His words were cut short when another vamp kicked the sword out of his hand. As the weapon went flying, the demon backhanded the man hard enough to knock him into a tree. Rupert’s head smashed into it and he slid to the ground unconscious.
Randy roared in rage and picked up the sword. “That’s my dad, you fucking ponce!” The vampire gawked at hearing Randy use the word ‘dad’ and the dyed Englishman took advantage of his befuddlement to slice his head off his shoulders. Paying no attention to the creature’s dusty demise, he ran over to where Rupert lay crumpled on the ground.
As he gingerly turned him over, his nostrils caught whiff of an intriguing scent. He started when he saw a long trail of blood coming from a shallow wound near Rupert’s temple. The enticing odor was coming from there. As Randy leaned closer, the aroma became so potent, his senses swam from it. He didn’t understand why but it smelled like the most heavenly food under the sun. He sniffed harder and let his tongue trail out to lap at the fluid.
Nearby Joan was fending off the attacks of several more vampires. She was more than a match for them, watching in grim satisfaction as each one fell before the might of Mr. Pointy. But where the hell were Randy and Rupert?
As the last vampire was dispatched, except for the ones who had the sense to beat a hasty retreat, she gazed about her anxiously. When she saw two figures huddled on the ground some distance off, she ran over only to stop in amazement.
Rupert was stretched prone on the ground while Randy appeared to be pressed against his body. As she approached nearer, she was shocked to see that Randy was licking the unconscious man’s face. “Randy? What do you think you’re doing?”
Randy raised his head at the sound of her voice and Joan froze in disbelief as she met the bloodstained visage of a vampire.
Randy’s tongue snaked out and lapped at the blood on his lips dreamily. “Joan. What is it?” Before she could think or change her mind her hand flew up and she buried Mr. Pointy in Randy’s chest. The look of blissful contentment on his face changed to one of shock. “Joan! Why--?” The rest of his words were lost as all of him shattered into powder and settled on the recumbent man beneath him.
Joan stood motionless for a moment as she struggled against conflicting feelings of distress and relief. She was glad that she’d saved Rupert yet again from a vampire’s attack. But how would she explain to him about having to kill his son, even given the circumstances? She didn’t know whether the man had even known Randy was a vampire. The news would come as a horrific blow to him, whether or not he ever regained his memory.
She was snapped out of her grim line of thought by a moan from Rupert. As she knelt beside him, he opened his eyes and peered dazedly at her. “Oh, it’s you.” A pain-filled grimace crossed his face. “We have to stop meeting like this.” She managed a shaky smile at his attempt at humor. He looked about and winced when the movement sent a flash of agony through his skull. “Where’s Randy?”
“Oh, he dusted the last of the vampires. He-he went back up to the shop to see if the others are all right. You’ve had a head injury so you have to lie quiet. I need to get to a phone.”
She got up to leave but he grasped her hand. “I don’t understand. If he was injured, why did he leave? Didn’t he--care?”
The catch in his voice added to her growing remorse. He may not have remembered Randy from before and the jerk hadn’t seemed the nicest of sons but Rupert obviously felt an attachment to the boy. Steeling herself, saying that the truth could come after medical care, she continued to lie. “I told him I’d take care of you. I didn’t want him weighed down by a heavy body if more of those demony things came after him.”
Rupert seemed to accept her explanation and closed his eyes. “Randy was right. You are the boss.”
Joan was glad he didn’t point out how it would have made more sense for Randy to call an ambulance while she stayed behind. The head wound was obviously keeping him from thinking clearly.
As she ran down the street with the intention of finding a phone, a couple of vampires that’d witnessed the exchange lurked in the bushes. “Dude, did you seat? at? The Slayer dusted Spike! Now the boss’ll never get his kittens. What’re we gonna tell him?”
The other vampire shrugged indifferently. “We tell him the truth. The boss would’ve had him dusted anyway if he couldn’t deliver the furs. The Slayer just saved us the trouble. C’mon, let’s be the bearer of glad tidings.” Silently the two edged away and melted into the shadows.
__________
The ambulance arrived in short order. The medics examined Rupert’s wound in bafflement--it was almost completely healed. They threatened to report the two to the police; to their trained eyes, the man appeared to need no medical assistance and using 911 without cause was considered a crime. Joan pointed out the blood already drying on the man’s collar and in his hair as proof that he had been injured.
The paramedics reluctantly conceded that the wound might have closed up on its own. Head wounds often looked far worse than they appeared. They pronounced him unharmed and told him to watch out for signs of concussion such as nausea, dizziness, blurred vision, etc.
Joan blurted out, “Wait! We’ve kinda got another problem. We seem to have lost our memories.”
One of the two men gave her a puzzled look. “ ‘We’? You got hit on the head, too?”
“No, it wasn’t a head injury. This was from before.”
“Before what?”
She took a deep breath and gave him her carefully prepared story. “Me and Ru--Mr. Giles here woke up earlier with total amnesia. We don’t remember who we are, how we got here or even where here is. We were on our way to a phone when Mr. Giles fell and hit his head.”
The man’s partner spoke soothingly to her. “Are you sure? What do you remember?”
Joan wrinkled her brows in an effort to think. “Well, I know what year this is--2001, right?” The medic nodded and she felt confident enough to continue. “I know math and I seem to have basic English skills, b can can’t remember anything personal. No name, no school, no parents, zilch.”
Rupert added, “I’m afraid I’m in a similar case. Except that I have identification so I know who I am. This young lady has no such helpful resource. She doesn’t even know her own name.”
The paramedics settled them in the rear of the ambulance. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the hospital and run some scans. In the meantime, just relax.”
__________
The hospital visit proved extremely frustrating. They arrived but couldn’t learn whether the others had been there. Patient information was restricted to family members only. When Rupert pointed out that Randy was family, the hospital clerk at the front desk said that no one of that name had been admitted that evening, something Rupert found extremely worrying.
Joan nibbled her lip; she still couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth, not in front of so many strangers. And Rupert needed to be told. She just couldn’t bear the burden of lying to him for much longer.
Rupert couldn’t answer more than basic questions on his admittance forms. His wallet contained a card for medical insurance but he couldn’t tell if he had any allergies, family history of alcoholism, insanity or STDs.
Joan’s plight was even worse. Without a real name, they couldn’t check anything about her and were going to refuse her treatment without adequate medical coverage. Incensed, Rupert offered to use his own to take care of her.
Rupert had seen her confusion and dismay as she gazed at the blank admission sheet. The strange attraction to her that he’d felt in the magic store had gotten stronger to the point where he’d found himself holding her hand in the back of the ambulance and then clasping her around the shoulders whenever there was a lull in the doctors’s attentions.
After running a few tests, the doctors announced that the two could leave. Their memory loss didn’t appear life threatening; they would simply have to wait for the test results. It was suggested that they both go home and rest.
Rupert called for a taxi and the drive to his place was made in total silence. Joan’s strength and courage had deserted her in the hospital. In the hands of the doctors, she’d felt completely helpless and the inability to answer the simplest question on her entry form had reinforced her feelings of non-being. Without valid I.D., it was as if she didn’t really exist.
Just like Randy. Thinking of the blond vampire she’d been forced to kill earlier that evening, she darted a guilty look at the man in the backseat with her. She had no idea how she was going to tell him this awful news but it had to be soon. Delaying would only make things harder. But how was she going to break it to him?
__________
The others had already checked into the hospital ahead of Rupert and Joan. Of all of them, Alexander Harris had proven to have the most thorough medical history. Punching his name and social security number into the front desk computer had pulled up his current residence as well as his description as a construction worker.
It also revealed a disturbing series of injuries dating all the way back to early childhood. Anya had felt alarmed and faintly ill when he’d started reading off the list of supposed “accidents” that had befallen him. She had smelled a rat and wanted to comfort him when she saw his distressed, bewildered expression.
But Willow had hugged him instead, favoring him with a sympathetic look, and he’d accepted her gesture gratefully. Anya felt a stab of unreasonable jealousy. Ever since she’d kissed him, she had been experiencing a growing impression of attachment to the handsome young brunette.
Anya tried to ignore the feelings. Why should she care if a man she’d known for only a little over two hours was intimate with his girlfriend? After all, she was engaged to a prominent, highly successful entrepreneur who ran a thriving business. A mere construction worker couldn’t compare to that. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to afford the lovely, costly ring she was wearing. Rupert Giles was by far the better choice.
So why did seeing him leave with Willow make her feel like taking a terrible vengeance on them both?
__________
Alexander and Willow were settling into his apartment. It had been agreed that she should stay with him while the other ladies stayed in Tara’s dorm room. It would be crowded but at least they could pal up until something better could be found.
Willow was looking about the place while Alexander watched her anxiously. “Does anything ring any bells?”
She shook her head and twisted her mouth up into an unhappy pout. “Nope. Not even a tinkle. You?”
He walked over to some handsomely made shelves and picked up a picture. “Nada. Coming up a complete blank.” Glancing at the picture, he did a swift double take. “Uh, Willow, could you come here a sec?”
“What is it?” Looking over his shoulder, her mouth dropped open.
Xander was holding a picture of himself with Anya and it was clear from their postures that they were more than a little friendly with each other. As they examined the other pictures on the shelves, both saw the same image repeated everywhere: almost every framed photo showed Alexander and Anya together. A few pictures had Alexander with Willow, Dawn, Joan and Tara in some combination but it was obvious in those shots that he was posing with friends.
“Ho boy. I think I made a big mistake. It looks like I’m supposed to be with Anya.”
Willow’s eyes widened in dismay. “Are you sure? She seemed pretty locked onto that Giles guy.”
Alexander wandered to the coffee table and picked up a bundle of small cards. “Look, these are wedding invitations.” He read, “‘You are cordially invited to the nuptials of Alexander Harris and Anya Jenkins.’“ He gaped at the writing. “Oh my gosh! I’m getting married?!?? That’s crazy, I mean, I’m like way too young!”
“Bu-but I don’t understand. Why was I wearing your jacket and why’d we wake up together all snuggly-wuggly?”
He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “Maybe whatever happened to us just knocked us down in the same spot. And I’m afraid pictures and wedding invites are way more official than jackets with my name on the pockets.”
Willow plopped heavily onto the sofa. “I guess that means I should be going then.”
Alexander shook himself out of his momentary bout of panic. “Heck no! It’s almost 2 a.m. That’s too late to be going anywhere especially since your I.D. just lists that school you and Tara attend.”
Willow made an effort to appear lighthearted. “Hey, I can just shack up with her and Dawn. And your fiancée. Who’ll probably want to come back here. You’re right, it’s too late to be shuffling around like that. Why don’t I just crash here on the sofa tonight and then I can leave in the morning?”
“Hey, that is so unnecessary. As the man of the house, I insist on being a gentleman. I’ll sleep on the sofa and you can sleep in the bed.”
Willow flashed him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Alex. You’re a swell guy. I can see why Anya’s marrying you.”
Alexander affected a lazy Midwestern drawl. “Aw, shucks, ma’am, t’weren’t nothing. I’ll just get a blanket for myself and you can go wash up.”
A yawn abruptly split her jaws, catching Willow by surprise. She was suddenly rather tired out, what with the monster attacks and the hospital tests. “Nah, I think I’ll just go straight to bed.”
__________
She went into the bedroom and looked around curiously. She considered if it would be appropriate to sleep in some of Anya’s things. Nope, Anya probably wouldn’t appreciate it, but Willow was leery of sleeping nude with another woman’s husband-to-be so nearby.
But she didn’t want to keep on the clothes she was wearing, not after her little sewer crawl. Finally she settled on a compromise. She pulled down a red robe hanging on the back of a closet door. She threw her clothes onto a chair then slipped into the robe and slid between the covers. After shuffling around to make herself comfortable, she gradually fell asleep.
Unnoticed, a small blackened crystal fell out of the pile of clothes and landed on the floor.
__________
Rupert and Joan slowly walked up the path to his house. Since Joan had no identification, it seemed as good a place as any to put her. Rupert switched on the lights and Joan looked around her. There was lots of nice furniture though some of it was under covers. She also saw a few boxes neatly piled near the door. “Whoah. Were you moving in or moving out?”
Rupert opened one of the unsealed boxes. Lifting out a book whose title was in some foreign language, he replied, “I’m sure I don’t know. Though if I am engaged to that abrasive young woman, perhaps I was planning to abscond in the middle of the night.”
She grinned at him and then instantly sobered. She still had to let him know about Randy’s demise. She heard Rupert puttering around in the kitchen and approached timidly. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“No, I believe I can muddle through all right. I’ll just fix us both some tea, if that’s all right with you. I have no idea if you even take tea or not. Perhaps there’s some coffee…”
“Tea’ll be fine, thanks,” she replied softly.
The two sat at his table in silence. Now that they were alone, Rupert felt quite shy around the woman. She also appeared to be laboring under some internal burden. Several times she’d given him an almost frightened look as if she had some important question weighing on her mind and didn’t know how to ask it. He decided to make things easier by speaking first.
“Well. This-this has been an exciting night, hasn’t it?” He halted, unable to believe he’d said something so inane. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I wake up with a bunch of strangers and discover I have a fiancée, a gay son and am proprietor of a magic shop in a town that appears populated by vampires. Quite an evening, I’d say.”
“Yeah. All we need now is a wicked witch in shiny red shoes with a team of winged monkeys and the wackiness would be complete,” Joan returned. She hesitated and added, “Rupert, about Randy--”
“Good Lord, I’d nearly forgotten about him. I never told him where I lived and he certainly doesn’t remember. However, my personal address is bound to be on those papers Anya was going on about so he could always get the information from there, I suppose.”
Joan took another swallow of her tea and wished for something stronger in it. This was going to be difficult. But she’d just slain a horde of vampires; she couldn’t shy away from this task and live with herself. “Rupert, Randy isn’t…he isn’t coming. He, that is, I mean, I had to, well, he was leaning over you and--” She gave Rupert an almost pleading look. “Rupert, Randy was a vampire.”
Rupert blinked at bizarre statement. Randy was--what was she going on about? “What? What did you just say?”
Joan took a deep breath and started again. “He was a vampire. After I finished up the vamps I was fighting, I went to find you. You were passed out on the ground and he was leaning over your body. He-he was licking at your head. That’s probably why the medics found so little blood in your wound.”
Rupert found himself making an automatic gesture of negation. “No, that can’t be right. Those other creatures were after him, they wanted to hurt him, they attacked us--”
Joan interrupted. “Those vamps didn’t attack us, they were after Randy. They said he owed them. That doesn’t sound as if they wanted him dead, deader, whatever. They just wanted whatever he was keeping from them.” Now that she’d begun, she was determined to make him understand.
“That doesn’t make him a vampire. And what you said about his licking me--well, you must have been mistaken. The night was dark, he may merely have been trying to staunch the flow of blood.”
“Rupert, I saw his face. It was changed like the other vamps. His forehead was all bumpy, he had fangs and he was licking your blood off his chops like a hungry dog. He was a vampire.”
Rupert didn’t know when he’d stood up but now he collapsed abruptly into his seat. He felt the room spinning around him and in a distant part of his mind wondered if he were experiencing the dizziness the medics had warned him about earlier. Then something from Joan’s story caught his attention. “Joan, why do you keep talking about Randy in the past tense? You said he wasn’t coming. What did you mean?”
Joan stared into the dregs at the bottom of her teacup as if she could find answers in there. Finally she lifted her head slowly to meet Rupert’s frozen gaze. “My god. You killed him.”
She inwardly flinched at the harsh words but couldn’t help defending herself. “Rupert, I didn’t want to, really, I didn’t, but when I saw him there licking your blood off his mouth like you were some, some treat, as if he’d completely forgotten you were his father, I knew there was nothing else I could do. I’m sorry, but I just had--”
“Sorry? You’re sorry?! You murder my son and you’re sorry? You evil creature, how can you sit there and--?”
A low sob broke in on his rant. The woman’s head was bent low over her teacup and she was clutching it almost hard enough to crack the china. She jumped up and stumbled out the door.
Clearly she intended to leave the house; in her current frame of mind, there was no telling what she might do or what danger she might be running blindly into. His flare of rage immediately evaporated as he rushed after her and grabbed one of her arms.
“Joan, wait, please. Forgive me, I-I didn’t mean it.”
She blinked, unable to look at him, fighting back tears. “Why do you want forgiveness? I’m the murderer here.”
He pulled her close and tentatively wrapped his arms around her. “Joan, listen. I had no right to speak to you like I did. He may have been my son or not. I don’t know. All I know is that I was acquainted with him for little over an hour and now he’s dead, apparently because he was a dangerous monster. If I spoke roughly to you just now, it’s because I let my feelings run away from me and failed to consider the entire circumstances.
“You didn’t know him either and couldn’t have held any kind of grudge against him. You fought to protect us all and you saved my life twice tonight from bloodsucking fiends. As far as I’m concerned, your behavior has been above reproach. If I’m angry about anything, it’s that the poor boy died without ever learning who he really was or how I felt about him. Do say you’ll excuse what I said in the heat of anger.”
He paused for a moment, holding his breath. The woman’s body had gradually lost its tension as he spoke; now she stood unmoving in his embrace. While he waited anxiously for her answer, he became aware of the soft form he held. A delicate scent of vanilla was rising from her hair. Indeed, it seemed as if her whole body was imbued with the aroma. Unconsciously he leaned closer to inhale her fragrance.
She stirred in his arms and he reluctantly released her. Joan lifted her head and sniffed. “It seems so crazy. I kill your son and you want me to excuse you. You’re a real prince, Rupert.” He smiled in relief and resisted the urge to take her back in his arms again.
She frowned slightly and reached up towards his hair. “What is it? Am I bleeding again?”
She shook her head in denial as she brushed her fingers lightly against his forehead. “No, it’s fine. In fact, you’d never know that you had a little head bump. It’s like the wound has totally disappeared. I was just thinking about those lines I saw earlier.”
He jerked his head back, offended. “What do you mean by lines?”
She floundered, trying to explain. “What I meant is, well, when I first woke up beside you, I thought you looked so sad and I hated that for some reason and I wanted to make it better so I reached out and trto sto smooth away those, uh, worry lines with my fingers…” Her voice died away. “And instead of doing that, I’ve made you even more unhappy.”
Joan paused. She wasn’t explaining herself well at all. She wanted to tell Rupert how the odd pull towards him had been growing until she could feel it in her chest like a physical ache. She needed to tell him that killing Randy had been done out of the same fear for his life she’d experienced when she’d protected him from that other vamp in the magic store. Joan wanted Rupert to know that standing so close to him now and being unable to touch him was driving her out of her mind with longing.
But she didn’t know how to say any of those things. So she just stood there with her hands by her sides and her gaze resting on his forehead.
Rupert found himself staring at her shamelessly. She was so still, so silent, he felt that the slightest movement might startle her, send her running into the night as she’d been prepared to do just moments before.
More than anything in the world, he wanted to touch her as much as he wanted her to touch him. So he slowly stretched forth and caught her tiny hand in his. Drawing it ever so carefully upwards, he placed her palm against his cheek.
Joan drew in her breath at the contact. All the feeling in her body was concentrated in that one small spot. She drew her fingers up until they were stroking his forehead.
Rupert closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn’t believe how on fire his body felt from that one simple caress. He couldn’t remember ever being so aroused by such casual contact from a woman.
Of course, he couldn’t remember ever having been with another woman at all. With that came the realization that the young woman with him was equally ignorant. To all intents and purposes, he was in the active process of seducing a virgin. The thought caused his eyes to fly open and he blushed to the roots of his hair.
His eyes met Joan’s and he saw that she’d moved closer to him, so close he could feel the heat from her body. He could see desire flickering in her eyes like a banked fire. He shivered at that look. It took all his willpower to push her away gently. “We can’t…that is, we mustn’t. It’s so very late…you should go to bed.”
She gave him a mischievous grin. “Wow, that’s just what I had in mind.”
He protested, throwing up his hands to ward her off. “No, that’s not what I meant. You see, I don’t have any clear recollection of having done, um, well, what I think we were about to attempt and I’m fairly sure you don’t recall it either. So it would probably be a disas--a mistake.”
She gazed at him curiously. Then it was her turn to blush. “You haven’t…oh, maybe I haven’t!” She peered down at her body, taking a critical look at herself for the first time since this strange adventure began. She was wearing a long leather coat and what looked like a low-cut white strapped top and tight slacks. The clothes were slightly racy but didn’t feel out of the norm. However, Randy had called her a tart; surely that implied some sexual experience.
She glanced at Rupert again. He was considerably older than she was. He must have had sex even if he didn’t remember it. Then she decided that too much speculation wasn’t of the good. Quickly, before the mood could disappear entirely, she reached up and brought his head down towards hers.
Any protest he would have made was cut off by the sensation of her tender lips. He balked a moment, his passion warring with an innate chivalry. Then he flung out his arms and crushed her body to his own.
She smiled against his mouth. Good, he wasn’t going to back out this time. She parted her mouth and touched her tongue to his lips. She felt him stiffen in surprise and then his mouth opened and his tongue came out to meet hers. Shyly at first and then more boldly, it played with hers, mutually dueling and twining together.
Rupert felt events were rapidly spiraling out of control. He pulled away again and whispered, “Stop.” She pouted at him. He shook his head at her implied question. “No, I’d very much like to continue, only someplace more--”
“Where?”
“Upstairs. There’s a staircase.”
“Upstairs it is, then.”
__________
Making it to his bedroom took a lifetime. They couldn’t keep their hands to themselves and kept trying to get as close as possible--a frustrating task, given all the clothes in the way.
She couldn’t get enough of him. Her hands wound in his hair then traced a path down his neck. As his lips left hers and began planting kisses all over her face, her fingers moved to his collar. She unbuttoned his shirt and yanked at his tie, trying to undo the knot.
Grinning at her impatience, he unknotted the troublesome piece of cloth and flung it heedlessly over his head. Then their hands were all over each other, peeling away jacket, coat and other sundries. The clothes flew around the moonlit room in careless abandon. But when Joan stood before him completely naked, Rupert found himself wavering. He was abruptly aware of her relative youth. He felt--old and remembered with a wrench the words Anya had used to dismiss him in the magic shop.
Joan could tell he was getting second thoughts and she was having none of it. She had to show him how much she wanted him, needed him, right at this moment. She clutched at Rupert, putting all her passion into a fiery kiss. She brushed her hands down his chest, twirling them briefly in his sparse chest hairs and dropping them to cup him through his dark blue boxers. He gasped softly and snatched at her hands. If she continued stroking him like that, this would be over before it even began.
He stepped away and switched on a nightstand lamp, partially because he wanted to pause a little, partially because he wanted them to have a good look at each other. He slipped out of his boxers and turned to face her.
Joan raked him hungrily with her eyes. He was muscular but not overly so. He had broad shoulders and wiry arms. He was lean as if he kept himself in very good shape and she remembered how confidently he’d handled that sword. As her glance drifted downwards and landed on the very obvious sign of his arousal, she wondered whether he was equally talented in bed. The notion made her flush hotly and she hastily drew her eyes back to his face.
He gazed at her--she was truly beautiful. Joan was small, barely coming up to his shoulder, and delicate with high breasts and a trim little waist. He reached towards her again and saw her nipples crinkle up as her breath came faster.
“Joan,” he whispered and kissed her again. The tiny break was just what he needed. He knew now that he could lose himself in her and still make this last.
Joan had felt uncertain when he’d moved away; had he decided this was a bad idea after all? But all her doubts vanished the moment he resumed kissing her. This time it was slow, tender and drawn out as if he could spend all night doing nothing but this. His hands cupped her face like she was a precious jewel he had no intention of losing. She could feel his lips pulling at her own and his teeth caught at her lower lip and tugged gently before sucking it into the hot cavern of his mouth.
All of this was driving her crazy. He hadn’t done anything yet except kiss her and she was so wet she could feel the moisture gathering between her thighs, ready to drip down her leg.
Enough of this! Joan decided it was time to take a more active role in the proceedings. She grabbed Rupert around the waist and, taking advantage of her superior swiftness and strength, tumbled him onto the bed.
Rupert gave a muffled grunt as her weight landed on him. But he quickly recovered. Turning her so that she was underneath him, he hoped to slow her movements somewhat. She was too eager and he wanted to savor every blissful moment with this exquisite woman.
Joan opened her legs slightly to hold one of his thighs between hers. She began undulating her hips so that the flesh of his leg pressed repeatedly against her clit. She was wild to feel any sort of stimulation there; the wait was unendurable.
But he refused to hurry. He let his lips trail a languid path over her chin. He paused to suck and nibble at her throat and his tongue dipped into the hollow at the base. He kissed his way down her chest. While one hand swirled itself almost lazily around her left breast, the fingers occasionally tugging the wrinkled nipple, his mouth was circling around the other. She arched up, mad for him to take the nipple, but he wouldn’t, not yet, not until he’d made her pant for it. He moved his mouth away from her skin, laughing silently because this made her whimper. Then she grasped his head and drew it down where she wanted it.
At last he opened his mouth wide over her and sucked the nipple hard. For a moment, it was all heated moisture and then his wicked tongue went to work. It flicked the nub repeatedly until it was hard as a stone. Then he suckled, bit and laved it until the pleasure passed into an acute ache. When he switched to the other, she pumped her hips a little harder. “Rupert,” she begged. “Please.”
“Please what, Joan?” and all of a sudden she could hear the teasing in his voice. She moaned pitifully; what could she do to speed up this game? She scratched her nails down his back and noted how he shuddered a little. Taking this as a clue, she scratched a little harder and felt his hip grinding between hers. Joan reached down and slipped one finger into the crack of his buttocks. A violent ripple ran through his body; she could feel his already rigid cock stiffen even more. She grinned triumphantly. Oh yeah, she could dish it out as well as take it.
Joan began running her hands all over him, as much as she could reach. She paid attention to his sighs, winces and groans to see what affected him most. She scratched his back again to experience that delightful tremor and then abruptly stopped, making him wait for it as he’d made her wait. She reached between their sweaty, slippery bodies and fingered his erection. He clutched at the sheets and panted hard. The tentative fondling was almost too much and he took deep shuddering breaths to steady himself.
She hid a sly smile at this reaction. She definitely had him on the edge. Joan danced her fingers up and down his shaft as she experimented with different touches. Now she stroked him hard and fast; now she drew feather-light circles around the engorged head. She ceased touching his cock entirely, focusing on cupping and squeezing his testicles in one hand.
Feeling daring, she gathered a drop of precum onto one finger and slowly brought it up to her mouth. His eyes followed it unwaveringly, mouth open, his breath coming unevenly from between wet lips. She rubbed the shiny finger around her lips before sinking the entire digit deep into her mouth. Joan let her eyes drift shut and moaned as if this were the best thing she had ever tasted.
Rupert groaned at the sight. He crushed his mouth against hers, all thoughts of being gentle scattering like confetti. Joan spread her legs wide, wrapping them around his back. She pulled away to gasp, “Rupert, hurry. I can’t wait any longer.”
Rupert still held back, his control hanging by a thread. “Joan, I don’t want…let me know if it hurts.”
She spoke in a quavering voice. “It hurts now. Please, I want you.”
Her young body pressed up against his urgently. He craved her so much, he was almost ready to take her brutally with no further preliminaries. He gritted his teeth and eased the head of his cock into her delicate folds.
Joan’s eyes widened--not from pain; there was none, even a hint of it. When the next thrust came, she rolled her hips up to meet it. He was taking his time, each effort filling her a little more. Joan was rocking up to him with each downward move, matching her rhythm to his. Raising her legs so that her heels were resting against his ass, she pressed her feet to push him farther into her.
She concentrated on using her muscles to squeeze him inside and out. He’d almost forgotten her strength; now it was brought home to him how powerful she was. He was being grasped and wrapped around by clutching heat with every motion. She grabbed at him and drew him in with every grip of her thighs as if she meant never to let him go.
She hadn’t been as tight as he had half feared. So he wasn’t the first. He hadn’t expected to be--still the thought pained him a little.
Then he realized. To her, he was the first. In her mind, there were no others, just as there were no others for him. They came to each other with undeniable knowledge but with the wonder of having this thrilling experience for the very first time. The thought filled him with overwhelming masculine pride and fierce joy.
He reached down and gripped one slender buttock. The time for holding back was past. He started pounding into her in earnest, knowing she could take all that he had to give. It felt so good to have the warmth of her body surrounding him everywhere as he stroked his hard length ever faster within her.
Joan couldn’t believe how right this felt, how perfect. She felt as if there had been a terrible void inside her and now it was being filled in a way she’d never dreamed possible. This man, this beautiful man with the haunted emerald green eyes, knowing hands and furrowed brow, was sinking deeper into her with every passing moment. He was calling her as if he’d just discovered speech and her name was the sweetest thing in it. He was telling her--
“I love you, Joan.”
What? She couldn’t have heard that. But she did. It was rising out of him with every motion as if it were as inevitable as breathing. “I love you, sweet Joan, dearest Joan, enchanting Joan. So beautiful. I love you.” And other things, far less coherent. At his next push, he cried out his call of love again. This time, she caught it and hurled it back joyfully.
“I love you, Joan.”
“I love you, Rupert.”
At the whispered avowal, his eyes flew open and met her steady gaze. His body almost stilled but she moved against him again, recapturing their rhythm. She said it again as if to convince him. “I love you, Rupert.”
Rupert buried his head into her shoulder and blinked hard as if to hold back tears. This wonderful woman loved him. She was giving herself to him body and soul. She pulled his head up and kissed him tenderly. For some reason, this was what served to push him over the edge. A guttural groan surged from his chest and with one final thrust he came deep inside her.
Rupert paused a moment, trying to rally himself. His heart was hammering as if he’d just run a marathon. His older body simply lacked her stamina; Rupert was frankly surprised he’d lasted this long.
But he could sense that she wasn’t yet satisfied. He wound his arms around her and rolled so that she was on top. He gripped her waist and began moving her along his shaft. The motion caused him to stiffen again somewhat. Joan felt this and flexed her muscles to revive him. He relaxed his hold, content to let her set her own pace. In this position, he could lie back and catch his breath a little.
He was also afforded a spectacular view of her quivering stomach, swanlike neck flung back as she rode him, breasts bouncing with each motion. He reached up and squeezed them together with one hand. He rubbed one calloused thumb over both nipples and then tweaked them. “Harder,” she gasped.
He glanced at her, startled. “Are you sure?”
She wrapped her hand around his and clenched tightly so there was no mistake. “Yes!”
He rolled and pinched the nipples almost cruelly as he reached between her legs. He found her clitoris and rubbed it teasingly in time with her movements. Joan’s body ground against his as a wild scream ripped its way out of her.
“RUUUUUPPPERRRRT!!!” He was stunned beyond belief as a flood of wetness drenched his lower hand. She had cum and he could feel it. The sensation was so erotic that, incredibly, he came again as well.
Goodness. Twice in one night. I wonder when’s the last time that happened. It was the only rational thought he was capable of as her body slowly sagged against his. Joan pressed dreamy moist kisses all along his cheeks, forehead, lips and jaw before settling against his chest. She sighed deeply. “I love you, Rupert.”
He kissed the top of her head, the vanilla scent now mixed with the heady tang of her female musk. She shifted on top of him and he was reminded that he was still buried inside her. But when he tried to move away, she clutched him against her. “No, don’t move.”
“We’ll be stuck together in the morning,” he warned.
She smiled; he could feel it against his skin. “Perfect,” she murmured. He chuckled softly and wound his arms about her small frame.
“Rupert?” Her voice was like a ghostly sigh, it was so quiet.
“Hmmmm?”
“Don’t leave me. Promise you won’t leave me.” There was something mournful in that plea as if a fearful thought had swum up through the depths of her mind. It was enough to stop him from the slumber that was tugging at him so insistently.
He held her tighter. She had become so special, so dear to him—amazing, given the short length of time they knew each other. How could he even dream of letting her go? “Never, Joan. I love you. I’m staying with you. Always.”
This appeared to satisfy her. He listened to her breathing slow into the even rhythm of sleep. He quietly reached over and shut off the light. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off as silence descended on the room.

TBC
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Joan