Giles rubbed his temples, trying to ward off the oncoming headache with the simple massage. He knew he shouldn't be doing all this reading without his glasses, but something had to get his mind off Willow. He hadn't seen her or her friends all morning, and he was beginning to worry.
What if she told them? What if… He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on those thoughts. If she told them, he'd simply convince them it had been the candy. Which he had willingly eaten with the express purpose of seducing her. Well, perhaps he'd leave that part out.
The thing that angered him the most was the fact that she may have been willing without him going to such great lengths. Her voice, so sure, telling him that she didn't want Ripper. She wanted Giles. She wanted *him. *
Gods. He gave up on his temples and instead rubbed his dry, aching eyes. The most ironic part of it all was that Giles was exactly who she got. He'd eaten one piece of the tainted candy, just to loosen his inhibitions a bit. But all the rest of it had been plain chocolate. He'd tried his best to be more "Ripper-like", only succeeding because she'd never really met the man. He couldn't quite handle Ripper anymore; he tended to disassociate him from himself, acting as though they were two different people.
It seemed like they were. Sometimes, he couldn't imagine ever been that irresponsible. Burying his head in his hands, he let out a brief burst of harsh laughter. Unless, of course, he thought about last night.
He stayed like that, his head resting on the cool skin of his forearms, wondering what he was going to do. How could he fix this? How could he…
He felt the whisper of a touch against his hair and all thinking stopped. His body tensed. Slowly, he raised his head, turning slightly to see the woman standing next to him.
Her hands trembled as they ran gently through his hair, tangling in it. She had her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. He sat up and turned his head slightly so that her hand was now against his cheek. With a small movement, his lips pressed against her palm.
She sank to her knees beside his chair and slowly opened her eyes. They were questioning, searching and, ultimately, accepting. Lifting her other hand, she held the sides of his face and brought him down to kiss her.
All of his restraint, all of the hazy romance disappeared with that kiss. As soon as her lips touched his, he wrapped his arms around her, sinking from the chair to the floor. She matched his ardor, her hands running up and down his back, pulling at his shirt.
He parted her lips with his tongue, thrusting it into the warm haven of her mouth. She sucked on it for a long moment before letting it go. He struggled onto his knees, pulling her up to him. She straddled him, her short skirt riding up her thighs. He lowered one of his arms, wrapping it around her ass and pulling her closer.
Her hands were busy unbuttoning his shirt. He could tell she was getting frustrated when she growled beneath his kiss and pulled the fabric apart. He barely registered the pinging of the buttons as they disappeared somewhere on the library floor. It was urgency and passion and desire, her warm hands running through the rough hair on his chest, pulling and kneading his chest like a cat.
He broke away from the kiss, struggling for air. His chest heaved with exertion and he sucked on his lower lip where she'd bitten him. She looked at him, her smile thoughtful. Her breasts rose and fell with each breath, the nipples clearly visible through her camisole like top.
With one arm still holding her to him, he slowly undid the buttons on the gauzy long sleeved shirt she wore. She arched her back, supposedly to make it easier for him, but the upward thrust of her breasts made him that much more impatient. Ignoring the bottom buttons, he reached in and pinched her nipple.
She moaned with pleasure and he could feel the heat between her legs escalate. She rubbed her thumbs over his erect nipples in retaliation and giggled at his shiver. Moving her hands down, she unbuttoned his slacks and undid the zipper.
Her small hands released his cock from its prison and she guided it between her legs. He gasped in shock and arousal as he felt the wetness. Somehow, he managed to find his voice. "You're not wearing anything under that skirt are you?"
She smiled her response and rubbed the tip of his cock against her clit. He felt the shutters wrack her body and held her tightly. He could feel the juices of her orgasm soaking through his pants. He'd never been so aroused in his entire life.
She took several deep breaths, trying to regain her equilibrium. Not wanting that, he lowered his hand to her hard nub and began rubbing it, eager for her to climax again. She panted and tried desperately to swallow. "Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm," was all she could manage as she bit her lower lip to stop herself from screaming as he sent her over the edge again.
He moved his hand, wet from her explosion, to his cock and rubbed her juices onto himself. She caught his hand as he finished and brought it up to her mouth. He watched, mesmerized, as she sucked the taste of herself off of him, sucking one finger deep inside her at a time.
He couldn't take any more. He pulled his hand from her and maneuvered his penis inside her. She was slick with her orgasm, but still tight. The muscles of her pussy clenched at the intruder, causing him to grunt. He moved his hand to her hips and guided her as she began thrusting against him. He leaned back against the table leg for support, arching his back slightly as their rhythm grew more rapid and frantic. He leaned forward finally burying his face in her shoulder as he came deep inside her.
He kept thrusting, her tight vagina squeezing every last drop from him. She moaned, frustrated, and he could tell she was right on the cusp of another orgasm. Nibbling her neck, he let his hand stray to her nipple and squeezed it gently, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. She pumped up and down on him; her position shifting slightly so that ever thrust caused her clit to rub against him. He kissed his way up to her ear and breathed huskily, "Come for me, Willow?"
The explosion, when it came, shattered them both.
He collapsed back on the floor, the cold seeping through his damaged shirt. He wondered, briefly, exactly how he was going to get through the day, much less home. His pants were soaked. Even if they dried, they smelled most delightfully of Willow. And his shirt was ruined. "You're hell on my wardrobe."
She smiled down at him, her hand casually rubbing his chest. She still straddled him and his cock, though smaller, was still buried inside her. "I gave last night some thought."
"So I gathered."
"And I arrived at a conclusion."
"Wha…what was that?" He stammered, unsure if it was from humor, her hand's exploration of him or habit.
"Well, I really can't afford to buy you a new pair of glasses, so I thought maybe we could work it out? Take it out in trade?"
"I wear really, really expensive glasses," he managed.
She smiled, her eyes twinkling. "I was hoping you'd say that."
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