Author: Kathy Pantaleo
Setting: Post-Series
Rating- FRAO
Pairing: B/G
Summary: The world is saved, the Hellmouth is closed, and the battered Warriors are trying to move on with their lives. A beach, a fire, moonlight, and two people who finally look beyond Watchers and Slayers to find a man and a woman.
Feedback: Desperately craved and cherished at
kapantaleo@aol.comDisclaimers: Joss, Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc, etc, and so forth. Suing me is pointless. I’m poor!
***That haunting tune? At the end of "Passion" there’s a tune in the background, when Giles is standing next to Buffy at Jenny’s grave. I swear that’s Tony, and that’s the tune Giles is humming on the beach….
Buffy Summers made her way carefully down the barely discernable path towards the beach from the house she shared with Xander, Dawn, and Giles. After the final battle of Sunnydale, their battered group had traveled to Los Angeles to bind their wounds and take stock in the care of the Angel Investigations team in the old Hyperion Hotel. In ones and twos, they had dispersed. Faith and Wood and several of the new Slayers to the Cleveland Hellmouth. Willow and Kennedy to New York. Andrew had simply disappeared.
Buffy had needed a safe place to heal and rest, and time to think. She needed to come to grips with all that had happened. With what she had become, the choices she had been forced to make, the losses she has suffered, and what she was going to do with the life that stood before her now. The possibility of a life that she had never really been able to contemplate.
Dawn, of course, had come with her. Not all wounds were physical ones. Dawn had lost so much, and come so close to losing so much more. She needed her sister, some sense of safety and stability in her life. Another of the things Buffy needed to think about.
Xander’s wounds, too, ran beyond the physical. Beyond the loss of his eye. Anya’s death haunted him. The things between them that had been left unsettled, the words left unsaid. With Willow gone, he seemed to find comfort just being with Buffy, Dawn, and Giles. They were his family in the only ways that really counted.
And Giles. Giles, who was more human, more approachable, more open, and so much more of an enigma than he had ever been. The man she had known when she was teen as her Watcher had morphed into someone she barely recognized. Oh, yes, there were things that were still classically "Giles" in her mind. Books and tea, dry wit, a quick, shy smile. His voice, which was at times soothing and melodic, yet could also be powerful and commanding. He was no longer "Tweedy", nor was he rumpled. He was thinner and grayer than he had been when he lived in Sunnydale. She found herself noticing things like that. Today, for instance, when they had all spent the afternoon and evening on the beach. She had found herself noticing that his legs, exposed beneath swimshorts, were long, lean, and well muscled. She had noticed that his light skin had begun to turn pink quickly, and had insisted that he let her apply sunblock. She had gently rubbed the coconut-scented concoction across his broad shoulders and over his heavily scarred back that he no longer seemed self-conscious about. She had felt him tremble at her touch. His breath had caught, and she had been clearly able to feel his heart race as she ran her slicked hands over his back and down his arms. He had turned to take the bottle from her to coat his chest, and their hands had met, and he had felt that he was not the only one afflicted with tremors. His eyes had risen to lock with hers, and she had been frozen, locked in place by the intensity of that clear, green gaze. There had been power there, desire shimmering on the surface and barely held in check. And a question. One she thought she understood, and wasn’t quite sure of the answer to. Her response had been surprising to her, a stab of electricity, of recognition, and an answering clenching in her belly and throbbing in her loins.
It couldn’t be, could it? Giles? She was falling in love with Giles?
The more she thought about it, about him, and all he had been to her, all that he continued to be, the feelings in her grew stronger. But, was it possible? Had she really seen it in his eyes? Did he feel the same? He seemed so distant, so restrained at times…
As she came down to the beach level, she saw that he was still here, next to the fire, as she had left him when she had gone with Xander and Dawn back to the house and the prospect of an evening of DVD’s. You could take the Slayer off the Hellmouth, but couldn’t take the Slayer out of the woman. With the fall of darkness came a restlessness that kept her from performing a spud imitation on the couch. He was, perhaps, 50 yards down the beach, next to the fire. The moonlight illuminated the beach to nearly-daylight brightness, and turned the gentle ripples of the ocean into molten silver.
He was singing…well, humming to himself, softly strumming his guitar and swaying gently. The melody was simple, soft, and somehow achingly lonely. She stepped onto the sand of the beach, and walked to the edge of the water, feeling the waves wash over her feet. The gentle surge of the ocean, its’ soft sound, seemed to blend with Giles’ song, at once both primordial and complex, and she felt a response from within her…from that spot inside her that had seemed cold and empty since she had been returned to the harshness of this life by Willow’s spell. The spot that had remained frozen, encased in an ice that she had been unable to melt or break through.
I touch the fire, and it freezes me.
I want the fire back….
Fire, conflict, torrid sex with Spike…Nothing had been able to fill that empty void within her. She had felt fear, pain…But love, true love, had escaped her, and the spot within her had remained cold, as if her soul, after having been ripped out of heaven and shoved back into this form, had never managed to fit properly.
Until now…
Now that cold spot thawed and melted away, dissolved by the waves, the moonlight, and the voice of the man that she knew had always been meant to be a part of her.
Smiling, she slipped her wrap off, and waded into the water. She swam out for a ways, then turned and swam until she was directly across from the fire and the singing man next to it. She swam in until she was in the shallows, able to touch the sandy bottom with her hands, but with her body still submerged.
"Are you trying to summon a mermaid from the ocean with that song?" she called. The music stopped. "Because, you know, your voice is beautiful…and your song is so lonely, it could summon a lover from the ocean."
He was smiling now, his arms folded on top of the guitar that rested on his crossed legs. The fire crackled and popped next to where he sat on an old blanket, illuminating his face that otherwise would have been cast in shadow by the bright moonlight.
"Could it, now? I honestly hadn’t thought of that. It’s the Sirens that are supposed to sing to the sailors, you know, to lure them to their deaths."
She rose to stand in the water, waves lapping around her calves, and the moonlight bathing her in white light. The water sparkled on her shoulders, cascades of diamonds that dripped from her hair. "I guess here it’s working in reverse. A voice like that…It’s an equal-opportunity seducer."
"Is this a seduction?"
"Do you want it to be?"
He didn’t answer. For a moment he was so still, she wondered if he had stopped breathing. Then he slowly set the guitar aside, got to his feet, and walked to the edge of the water.
"I want that very much indeed. I’ve wanted it for a long time now. But not at the cost of our friendship. I can’t…I won’t take advantage of you, Buffy. I won’t just be… You must be sure."
"I’m sure. I’m very sure." She held out her hand. "Please, Giles? I know I’ve been … I haven’t treated you well. I think I knew, but I was afraid for a long time. I don’t want to be afraid anymore."
He closed the space between them in three long strides, splashing into the surf and gathering her into his arms. He kissed her long and hard, with an ardor that she had never felt before. She opened her mouth, and felt his tongue plunge inside, touching, dueling with hers. His strong arms crushed her ocean-chilled body to him, and she pressed herself against his chest, running one hand up into the hair at the nape of his neck to force his head down harder into the kiss. She wrapped one wet leg around him, and felt his growing, trunk-clad erection pressing against the wetness of her suit. She ground herself against him, and was rewarded by a growl as his mouth moved down to nip lightly at her neck.
He growled? Her Watcher growled? No, *Giles * growled.
He turned them, and slowly lowered her onto the very edge of the surf, following her down and lying next to her, half-draped over her with their legs entwined, their lower halves being caressed by the waves and their bodies cushioned by the cold, wet sand. Their kisses were long and deep as their hands roved over each other.
His hands were untying the top of her bikini; hers were stroking him through his trunks. She could feel the size, the hardness of him, and she cupped him boldly, squeezing. He gasped, and thrust into her hand. Then her top was gone, sailing off in the water. She cried out as his mouth closed on her breast. He licked the salty water from her skin, then pulled a hard nipple into his mouth, sucking and grazing it with his teeth. She cried out in pleasure as his callused hand closed on her other breast, rubbing it hard enough to make her moan. He moved his mouth from her breast to cover hers again, thrusting his tongue inside. She sucked him in, wanting more.
She rolled them over, straddling him, holding his hands over his head. She returned the favor, kissing him, pushing his open shirt out of the way and kissing a path down his chest to lick hard on his nipples. She felt a jolt go through him, and he thrust against her suit-covered ass. She slid lower, licking a trail down his chest, tasting salt and sand, and something that was uniquely Giles.
She thrust back, rocking slowly on him, feeling the friction of the confining garments between them. Deliberately, she mimicked the rhythm of the waves, a slow, powerful thrust, then retreat, as he took one of the breasts dangling so enticingly above him into his mouth.
So quickly it made her gasp, he tore his hands free and sat up, crushing her to him again. Then, suddenly, he was lifting her effortlessly in his arms, striding across the sand to lay her on the blanket next to the fire. He set her down gently, with another deep kiss, then rolled her onto her stomach. Slowly, gently, he kissed his way across her shoulders, down her back, worshiping her body. Every touch of his lips, caress of his tongue, sent shivers of delight and anticipation through her. His hand slipped under her bikini bottom, caressing, squeezing, pushing the obstructing fabric down her legs and discarding them. His touch traveled down her legs, kissing her behind each knee, then back up. He kissed the v just above the crack of her ass, then spread her cheeks. His fingers explored her, probing and entering where no one had ever touched her before. She thrust back against his invading fingers, feeling a throbbing deep within her, and wetness that had nothing to do with her time in the water. She moaned her need and pushed up to all fours, wanting nothing more than to feel him bury himself inside her. She cried out with loss as his fingers withdrew. She felt the silky fabric of his trunks against her as he leaned over her, one hand reaching around to massage her breast, the other on her hip as he ground himself against her.
"Oh God, Giles! Please…"
He grasped her shoulders, raising her and turning her, lifting her chin until he could meet her lust-blurred eyes.
There was an answering fire burning in his, but, he was still Rupert Giles, and he had to be sure.
"Are you certain, Buffy? This is what you want? *I’m * what you want?"
She crushed her lips to his, cutting off anything further he might have said as she pushed his sopping shirt off his shoulders. Then her hands were at his waist, untying the tented trunks, freeing him, pushing them down. She kissed him again, taking his hand and guiding it to the wetness between her legs. "Can you feel how much I want you? Believe me, I’m sure, Giles. I think it’s always been you. Somehow….It should always have been you."
"Oh, dear Lord! Buffy…" Further words were lost as his mouth closed on her again, taking her once more down onto the blanket.
His hand slipped down her firm stomach, sliding through her curls to touch her, brushing a finger over the very tip of her clit. She moaned, pushing his hand harder against her. He moved down to kneel between her legs, which she opened for him. He ran his hands up her legs, kissed each knee, then ran his tongue up the inside of her thighs. He slipped his hands under her hips and raised her, then lowered his head. She cried out as his tongue lapped at her, running along the length of her channel. She moaned and thrashed as he began to suck on her clit, thrusting upwards. Her first orgasm took her as he loved her with his mouth, writhing on the old blanket as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her body.
She was still shuddering when he pulled himself up to his knees. He leaned over her, slipping one strong arm under her right knee and raising her leg over his shoulder, the other hand he slipped under her head, raising it to kiss her again, then hold her there, eyes locked as he placed his tip against her.
"Yes, Giles…Oh, yes, please.."
He penetrated her, moaning his pleasure. With an agonizing slowness, he began to move within her, feeling her stretch to accommodate his size. He pulled out and slowly sank into her again, letting her feel the hard length of him sliding within her. To feel her wet heat around him… the smooth, silky depth of her taking him in, to feel her writhe and shudder beneath him, matching him as he increased the pace, meeting him thrust for thrust…
She clutched his shoulders, pulling him closer to her, until she could feel the hair of his chest rubbing hard against her nipples. She moved her legs until they were wrapped around his waist, one heel rubbing up and down his ass, feeling the muscles bunch and move beneath his scarred skin as his hips pumped harder.
He moved until he was on his knees, and her hips were raised until only her upper back and shoulders touched the ground, and began to hammer into her, all memory of gentleness gone in the need for release. His callused hands were on her breasts, rubbing them hard. Hers were clutching his shoulders or his hair, pulling him closer. He was penetrating her deeper than she had ever known, and she took all of him in, thrusting back in perfect time, striving to match him.
She came again as he hammered into her, clutching him to her and crying out his name. He felt her muscles lock around him and hold him, and he felt himself swelling, then exploding, his cock jerking and spasming inside her as he filled her with his essence.
Slowly, her fierce grip on him loosened, and she lay bonelessly beneath him as he collapsed on top of her.
"Buffy….Buffy, my love, Oh, dear Lord."
"You can say that again."
He slipped out of her, and rolled to lie next to her, panting. She curled up against him, head on his chest, on finger tracing lazy circles around his nipple. His arms came up and around her, a circle of protection, comfort and love that she knew she never wanted to leave.
Gentle again, he kissed the top of her head.
"Any regrets, love?"
"Well…Yes. One, really."
She felt the tension slip into his muscles. A shiver of dread run through him.
"Oh? Yes?"
"That was a new bikini."
The sound of his laughter was joined by hers in the night.
End
Turning of the Tide.
7/31/20005