My pseudo-beta-reader slash old rommmate slash Buffy buddy was reading chapter one and said, Hey, where's my fuckin' fuckin? I, being the kind and generous girl that I am, happily obliged.
This one's for you, Jen, but you're a very naughty girl...
He shut the door behind their laughing friends, shot the bolt, and turned around to face the beautiful redhead on his couch.
“Think we should have another drink?” He asked her, smiling.
“Yes, I do.” Willow answered. “Do you have anything besides champagne?”
He walked over to the coffee table and picked up the bucket of mostly melted ice. Peering into the bottle, he said, “It appears I’ll have to come up with something. We’re out of champagne.”
“Do you have any more of that red wine, Giles?” she asked, reaching up to hand him her champagne flute. When he took it from her, their fingers brushed together.
He caught her hand with his other, and took the glass away to set it on the table. Giles gave her arms a tug, and she stood up close enough to feel his breath on the top of her head. Willow looked up at his face, and smiled at him.
Her breath caught when his head bent and he captured her lips in a soft kiss. She moved closer to him, grip tightening on his fingers, squeezing and stroking them. She let go to wrap her arms around his neck, and opened her lips under his. His tongue explored her mouth carefully and his hands dropped to her waist to pull her body even closer.
The glass fell out of his hand and shattered on the floor, and they sprang apart, surprised.
Giles laughed and his eyes twinkled. “Mazel tov.”
“I suppose,” she said wryly. He set the bucket back on the table and gathered her into his arms again.
“Are you sure about this?” Giles asked.
She was looking up at him, clear-eyed and sober. She said, “Yes. Absolutely. Nowhere I’d rather be.”
“Good.” He bent down and crushed her with a kiss, hands tangling in her hair. He pulled her pelvis closer to his and her stockingless leg coiled up around one of his, rubbing up and down on the corduroy slacks.
She turned them around and pushed him down on the couch, straddling his hips and grinding her pelvis on his. She moaned as his strong hands traveled up her back to runch up the fabric of her dress, allowing him access to the soft skin beneath.
“Willow,” he sighed into her neck as he kissed a trail to her collarbone.
She responded by making her own trail, this one of nips and licks, almost feline in persuasion. He moaned and gripped her thigs tightly, his fingers leaving small white marks. She whimpered quietly, the painful pressure exciting her more as she pushed her pelvis against his. Her teeth clamped down on his neck.
To her shock, he roared and stood up, whirling around in midair, and landing, planting her hard against the couch. He tore at her panties, yanking the seams loose and leaving a pile of satin and lace on the floor between his knees. She winced as the cold air hit her sensitive areas, than groaned deeply when his mouth found them.
The world slipped away for Willow and she wasn’t sure how long she lay there, orgasms sweeping over her, when she heard him pull his zipper.
The he was inside her, pounding at her insides and grunting in her ears. She heard her cries; they sounded like anguished screams, even though she felt nothing but pleasure. Her cries drove him hader, faster, and when they climaxed together she screamed his name.
After, they lay in a sweaty tangle on the sofa, she stroking his hair smooth over his ear,. he breathing deeply and massaging her thigh with his free hand.
“Again?” she asked.
“If you insist, luv.”