Human Behaviour


BuffySmut by the BuffyOtaku

Disclaimer: Joss owns them. I’m just taking them out for, um, dessert.
Rating: NC-17 (B/G, m/f consensual)

Summary: After the Band Candy incident, Buffy goes to check up on Giles, who is going through withdrawal. If you haven’t read the rest of the Afterglow series in which this is set, it can be found at: http://www.oocities.org/Athens/Parthenon/3013/naughty.html Pretty much, if you don’t read those stories, this won’t make much sense. Well, it might. I guess.

Dedication: For Sali, whose request for HTMLed fic made me reread the series. 

if you ever get close to a human
and human behaviour
be ready to get confused

The loud knocking on Rupert Giles’ started him from his withdrawal and Old Number Seven induced stupor. He stood, shakily, and pulled on a shirt.
He wrenched the door open, and saw Buffy’s back as she walked away. “Buffy?”
“Oh!” she spun around, startled. “Good. You’re alive. I was about to break in.”
“Remind me to get you a key.”
Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. A silence followed.
“What?” Giles said finally.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Oh. Yeah. Come on.”
“Are you still high on the candy?” Buffy asked as she closed the door.
“Buffy, love, I am not only high on the candy, I’ve been spending quality time with Mister Daniels here.” he held out the bottle to her. “Want some?”
“Uhh...” the Slayer hesitated.
“Come on, Buf, you’re not an innocent.” He smiled. “‘Fraid you can’t hang with the big boys?”
“You know I can hang with you.” She grabbed the bottle and took a swig, wincing as the liquor hit her throat.
“Don’t like whiskey?” Giles asked wryly.
“Not used to it.” the Slayer coughed. “How do you drink this stuff?”
“Years of practice. More after Jenny died.”
Buffy frowned.
“You didn’t come here to have a drink with the old man, did you, love?”
“Uhh...well...no.” Buffy’s frown deepened. “My mom is sick in bed, throwing up every five minutes. Faith is over there keeping an eye on her.”
“Why didn’t Faith come over here instead of you?”
“Why are we still standing in the foyer?”
“Because I’m just drunk enough that, if we sit down, I’ll throw myself at you.”
Buffy smiled. “You would, would you?”
“I would.” Giles grinned at her smarmily. “Sit down anyways?”
“Why fight it?”
The pair sat on the tattered sofa. Giles’ denim-clad leg flopped over Buffy’s lap and she took his bare foot in her hand and began to massage it. He murmured.
“Feels nice.”
Buffy chuckled. “I’m just getting started.”
The blonde turned her ministrations to his calf, and her eyes to his torso, where a puff of downy chest hair peeked out from between the folds of his unbuttoned oxford shirt. Unable to help herself, she scooted over a bit, positioning herself so she was half-sitting, half-laying wedged between him and the back of the sofa. Her hand trailed delicately up his calf, over his thigh, his hip, up under the thin cotton to tug at the hair.
“I was going to throw myself at you.” Giles said.
“Mmm--hmm.” Her hand massaged his stomach.
“I think I’ll just let you take advantage of me.” He smiled at her, and she scooted up to lay on top of him.
Their lips met in a kiss, softly at first, but with increasing speed and urgency. Buffy peeled off his oxford, and his hands began to undo the buttons of her blouse, pushing apart the delicate fabric, pushing it off her shoulders. Giggles erupted when she got stuck in the sleeves.
Buffy sat up to shrug off her blouse, removing her brassiere as well. Her mentor’s hands moved up her back, slowly stroking and caressing the soft, tanned skin as she lowered her head to his chest, nipping a pathway to his mouth.
They kissed again, their urgency, their need for each other growing. They struggled out of the rest of their clothing, giggling and kissing each other, until, finally, both were nude, rolled in a blanket on his living room floor.
“Well.” Giles grinned, “Now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?”
“I can think of a few things,” Buffy said sexily. “Are you ticklish?”
“Ticklish?” he said incredulously. “I’m laying here naked with you, I have a raging hard-on, you’re wetter than the Nile in springtime, and you want to know if I’m ticklish?!? Whatever.” He rolled over to get up.
Buffy grabbed his arm, pulling him down on his back, and threw one leg over him. Straddling him, she began to tease him by rubbing her moist nether region up and down his shaft slowly and gently. He growled and pulled her down into a blatantly possessive, carnal kiss.
Their toungues wrestled, and he used the distraction to thrust up into her. She gasped, then sighed and settled in on him, rocking him to their own private rhythm.
Their lust, intense from the beginning, grew with each thrust. Giles sat up, still inside his charge, encouraging her to wrap her legs around him before he lay her back down. He thrust harder, and she moaned.
Taking it as permission, he began to move in and out of her as quickly as possible, as hard as he could. Buffy squealed, thrashed, moaned; turned him on more and more, urging him to move faster, harder; dragged her nails down his back, drawing blood.
One more thrust, one more double-handed scratch, and he could hold on no longer, expending himself into her. Feeling this, Buffy convulsed around him in her own climax.
He rolled off her, spent, and she cuddled up with him and kissed him once more on the mouth.
Buffy sighed, “We don’t do that enough.”
Her hand sank down to grasp his cock, which was already beginning to harden again.
The blonde looked up at her lover and grinned. “Wanna do it again?”
“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

"We're immortal, Buffy, we can do anything!"
"Oh yeah? Clap."