Watcher's Blues | By : RubyGiles Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Giles Views: 7105 -:- 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. |
It was so difficult to keep her in line, sometimes. He told her a and and again what was needed; the training, the research. The hours of patrolling. The time they had to spend together.
She tried, he knew she did. But she disdained research, and much of her time "patrolling" was spent talking with Willow or flirting with Angel. And the things she trained in…tiny camisoles whose straps continually fell down her shoulders. Skintight pants. Thin silk shirts that clearly displayed the rouching of her nipples, as her breasts bounced unfettered beneath. It was difficult to concentrate when she wore such clothing, as difficult as it surely was for her to train in them. He must have a word with her about it.
As he started out from Revello Street, he felt a twinge of annoyance cross his mind. She should have been home by them. It wasn’t really concern he felt, because he was confident in her abilities. It was how lightly she took guidance, and her responsibilities, that troubled him. He’d check the cemeteries first, on the off chance that she was actually patrolling; it was more likely, he thought, that she was at the Bronze, dancing with her friends. Her golden body sheened with perspiration, her hips languidly keeping time with the music. It was less dancing, the way she moved, than….
Get ahold of yourself, he thought harshly. That wasn’t the way he was supposed to—not the way he regarded her. It was not the nature of their relationship. It wasn’t even how it wanted it to be. He had Jenny, and she had…that lummox with his misbegotten hair and his unfortunately homicidal past. And that were the way things would remain.
The closest cemetery, Mortenson Home of Eternal Slumber, turned up nothing. The next, St. John’s, contained only a scrawny-looking fledgling he dusted without incident.
But at the third, Still Gardens, he heard the unmistakable sounds of her California-girl voice, rising in a high wail. He ran forward, his heart in his chest—he’d been lying to himself when he thought that he didn’t worry for her—only to skid to a stop when her form came into focus, covered by a powerful vampire. At her fiercely, consuming her, making her scream. Her legs locked around his naked hips, holding him to her, stroking his face as they kissed ardently. Angel.
Giles skidded to a stop, dropping the stake he’d pulled from his jacket pocket. They didn’t even hear him, so involved were they in their rutting. Angel, that oversize brute, on her like the beast he was, bending her over the sarcophagus…pumping in and out, his cock glistening with her juices, the faint sound of flesh slapping against flesh drifting out to Giles. He almost thought he could smell her arousal, and to his shame his mouth watered.
He had to leave…run, get out immediately. But even as he thought that, he realized his hand was tracing the hard length of his cock, squeezing it through his trousers, his body anxious for relief. And then he saw Buffy stroke down her own body, reaching to rub the clit that her lover wasn’t attending to, and he forgot his good intentions and freed himself, stroking himself in time to the motion of Buffy’s thrusting hips.
They had to hear him, surely. His breath, rhythmic, deepening to pants as he stroked up and down his shaft, the whine of urgency entering his tone as he began pumping in earnest. It had been so long. Jenny, yes, he had Jenny, but she wasn’t tight and young and hot as an inferno, not like his B—his Buf—
Angel reared back and lifted Buffy’s hips clear off the sarcophagus with his powerful thrusts, a sharp cry wringing out of her throat with each slam of his body against hers. Giles’ breath caught in his throat as he fought to keep from screaming his pleasure as he watched Buffy’s ripe body, flush with her first orgasm, as he came in steady spurts on the dark carpet of the cemetery’s lawn.
Buffy reached out to pull Angel to her as he groaned and came, collapsing, his heavy body against hers.
Giles watched, his heart breaking as he stroked his still-sensitive shaft. To her, all she’d remember of this night was Angel.
And all Giles would remember was what might have been.
The End
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