Title: Enchantment 6/6
Author: Gail Christison
Pairing: B/G
Rating: PG-13 for the first five parts; Soft NC-17 for romantic sexual encounter in the last part
Summary: Began as a playful challenge by Ness some time ago to which I posted a 3 page fluffy drabble called Giles the mechanic. Became a series on Watchergirls which I have been remiss about finishing. Now it's complete and fully beta-ed, I'm posting it as a whole fic.
Timeline: Late-ish season 5 AU. Wherever your mind slots it in there :-)
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, own all. I'm just borrowing the characters and having more fun with them than they did :-)
Distribution: All those who already have permission. Anyone else please ask first.
Author's notes: Thanks to Gileswench, Karesia and Liz for their encouragement, betas and support during this series :-) And thankyou to Ness for causing it in the first place :-))
Dedication: To Gileswench, Karesia, Liz and Ness.

Heart thundering in her ears, she waited.

Still without moving his gaze an inch, Giles removed his jacket and hung it over the gown.

A hand lifted to his tie, however, immediately brought her to life.

Wordlessly, Buffy stayed his hand and carefully untied the expensive black tie, which Giles pushed into the pocket of the jacket as she began on his shirt buttons. His breath caught as her fingers grazed his skin. Not so long ago he believed he would never know this moment, never know her touch, much less her heart.

When the white linen shirt was undone, she pushed it off his shoulders and watched as he let it fall. His chest was hard, but not buff. She wasn't sure what she expected, but it was still a pleasant surprise to go with her recent memories of the wide shoulders and very male chest, with the golden and, now she could see, one or three grey, hairs across it. It almost made her giggle: the realisation that she'd never actually been with anyone quite so...male... before.

At that point, however, she lost her train of thought. Large, tender hands were sliding over her skin, down her back to cup soft, sweet flesh, and lift her up to fit perfectly against him. And then she was drowning in the pleasure of a kiss that she never wanted to end; a kiss that was setting fire to the very edges of her soul.

Giles wasn't sure when he'd surrendered complete control. All he knew was that she was his, and she wanted him. The taste...the feel...the scent...the sheer power of her...was almost more than his senses could handle...heady, wild...free...freer than he'd felt in years...so *many* years.

Buffy felt him respond to her, felt the power in the lithe male body, the possessiveness of the arms that held her. She whimpered, before pressing herself even more hungrily against him.

And then he slowly stopped plundering her tender mouth and lifted his head.

She found herself carried to the big bathtub and set very gently on the side of it while Giles leaned over and started a tap running. A few moments later, when he lifted one of her feet, she realized what he was doing and was overwhelmed with unexpected pain...

His bent head, as he lovingly washed the sand off her feet, filled her with both humility and shame. This wasn't about servitude. This was a gift. She could feel the authority in his movements, the power in that body and she knew, as suddenly and as shockingly as if she'd been shot, that Rupert Giles bowed to no man, and never would...and yet for years he'd *given* her what he'd let no other take from him.

She looked down as he picked up her second foot. The pain of insight was far too deep for tears, instead etching regret, sorrow...grief, into the very depths of her soft grey-green eyes as her worldview shattered and reformed, and with it, her heart.

The weight of the knowledge of what she'd done to him, and how much he'd willingly tolerated for...for love of her, threatened to overwhelm her, made her want to run as fast and as far away as possible...

She reached out shaking fingers to caress the soft hair on his crown...but it was far too late to run; she'd run...or hidden...far too often.

He finished the foot and straightened at her touch, his contented countenance immediately transformed into concern when he saw her face. Before he could speak, however, she stood up and unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his pants, finding the normally troublesome inside hook with surprising ease, before sliding the zipper down and pushing them off.

When he stepped out of them uncertainly, Buffy moved forward immediately, to stand very close to him and look up into the face she loved. She reached up with a trembling hand and touched his face.

"I'm *so* sorry..." she whispered.

Giles didn't need an explanation. He was staring into her eyes, his own glistening and bright. He was about to tell her so, when her fingers moved to his mouth to quiet him instead.

Then she put her hands on his chest and traced all the contours, the curves, playing with the soft hair, and kissing his sternum before letting her fingers slide down his sides and inside the back of soft, close fitting boxer-briefs he was wearing. His indrawn breath was the only sound that echoed in the small bathroom as she cupped the surprisingly smooth curves beneath. A moment later she let her right hand slide around his whipcord hard hip and very deliberately stroked his length, feeling the shudder that went right through his body at the most intimate of touches.

Buffy stayed there for a moment longer, before kissing his chest again, slipping down to her knees, and picking up the damp cloth. Lovingly, she returned the favour... carefully removing the sand from his large, well-formed feet, before slowly straightening, without rising, and looking, once again, at the over-burdened briefs.

When her fingers reached out and touched the buttoned fly, Giles touched her hand, prompting her to look up again and to meet his concerned gaze. They lingered just long enough for him to again make the bathroom echo with the sound of his swiftly indrawn breath, recognising in her beautiful eyes the plain and simple truth.

She yielded.

Her fingers continued, easily undoing the buttons and slipping inside the briefs again, to capture the fiery heat of him, holding the strength of his passion, his need, in her hand as she drew him out.

The sheer pleasure of her touch...the ecstasy of it...was almost too much. Giles made a noise that caught between a shudder and a groan, and leaned into her hand. Then she took him and made him hers, his gasping cry echoing around the flat as her mouth, her body and her whole heart became his.

When Giles knew he couldn't take another moment of the glorious things she was doing to him, he bent and lifted her gently by the shoulders.

Buffy released him and came lightly to her feet only be kissed once again, this time slowly, gently, passionately, until her legs were almost jelly. At which point Giles swung her into the bathtub and stepped in after her, toeing the plug into the plughole, but setting the shower going, rather than running a bath.

A moment later they were kissing again, under a steaming torrent of blissfully hot water, Buffy groaning as Giles' hands wandered over her slender body, he answering with a groan of his own as she responded by arching hard against him. Then they were sharing the discovery, exploring each other, removing the last barriers and dropping them beside the tub, tasting, tracing, touching, all with an urgency that would not be brooked.

"Oh, God," he breathed, when her fingers closed around him again. He captured Buffy's mouth as her touch drove him once again to a height of arousal he hadn't known since... Since his misspent youth, he mused ruefully, between shudders.

Then, somehow, he drew her down so that he was sitting down under the torrent of water and Buffy was astride him, though their lips, tongues, mouths...remained firmly tangled.

Buffy felt Giles' strong hands slide over her soft skin and cup her breasts. She shivered at their heightened sensitivity as he stroked and caressed them, making small noises and pushing against his palms. Then, just as her small whimpers were getting more demanding, one almost painfully hardened nipple was left bereft of attention. The large fingers slid down Buffy's side, inside her thigh and trailed tormentingly along her hyper-sensitised groin, making her shudder and groan loudly enough to echo in the small bathroom. For a long, cruel moment the fingertips paused.

"Giles," she moaned and then bucked and cried out as they slipped into the soft folds, expertly caressing, stroking and exploring the warm, sensitised, buds of soft flesh, Giles revelling her vocal, writhing response.

And then, with slayer speed, he felt her shift and found himself poised, pressing against moist, willing flesh, about to...It was his turn to cry out as she pushed downwards so that his tip moved inside her, taken and closed upon by her hungry flesh.

"Buffy..." He hissed, groaning short groans both of pleasure and need as she held herself there for a moment.

Her hands cupped his head and she kissed his hair amid the cascading water from the shower, as her body travelled down his rigid length, sheathing him, owning him as he cried out her name again.

His hands closed on her soft buttocks as she began to move, he unable to stop himself reciprocating, their passion so demanding that their love making grew loud and wild and frantic, until it seemed almost as though they were fighting to get enough of each other.

Buffy opened herself even wider, greedy for him, demanding more of the incredibly hard length buried inside her, which in turn made Giles gasp and redouble his efforts to give her what she wanted, struggling to hold back his release as her channel spasmed with each new wave of pleasure.

And then, suddenly, there was no need to hold back.

Buffy made a strangled, gasping noise, and her movements became frantic. "Giles! Oh, God, Giles!" Her body shook and shuddered, cries wrenched from her as she writhed and plunged, the magnificence of her completion sending him spiralling after her, thrusting upwards as she rode him and echoing her cries as he spilled endlessly into her.

When the bathroom finally stopped echoing, Buffy turned off the shower and slid her arms slid around his neck, resting her face against his hair, so that his cheek lay contentedly against her tender bosom.

"God," she said softly. "What *was* that? Anyone would think the two of us haven't been getting any, or something," she added dryly.

He couldn't help but giggle, which naturally made her giggle too. When they quiet again, he said softly: "Are you all right?" And felt her nod against his hair. He continued. "Are...are you, um...?"

"Yes," she said, amusement in her voice as her chin moved against his crown. "Since Riley. The little foil packages...not my idea of romance." Giles' whole body relaxed a little bit more. Buffy smiled. "So how does it feel to be seventeen again?" she teased.

Giles shifted then, so that he could look at her. "Bloody good, actually," he grinned back sheepishly, then shook his head ruefully. "I can't believe I didn't even think of..." He looked up again. "Never mind, yes I can," he said, tenderly pushing wet hair out of her eyes. "After, quite literally, years of not even needing one, how could I think of anything, much less sodding prophylactics, when all of my dreams were again, quite literally, rushing at me...all in one tiny, beautiful, dynamo of a package?"

Buffy giggled again, put her arms around him and kissed him in a surprisingly tender show of affection, before dropping a last salute on the bridge of his nose.

"There were kind of a lotta dreams being bandied about in here. Don't go getting the idea that you cornered the market."

Giles snorted and shifted a little. "Not feeling seventeen anymore," he grumbled as his body made its feelings known about making love in a hard enamel tub.

That was a signal for more giggling and both of them tumbling out of the tub together, then without even really thinking about it, towelling each other off in turn, Buffy huffing when she couldn't reach to reciprocate his too-brisk towel-drying of her hair. He laughed and did his own, muttering about the foolhardiness of letting a vengeful Slayer attack one's wet head with a towel.

When they were done it became obvious that they hadn't exactly planned ahead.

"Nothing for it," he said. "The towels are wet and I'm not putting that suit back on, now.

Buffy's eyes widened and her cheeks flooded with colour. It wasn't as though she hadn't darted about at home in the all together on occasion. It just somehow seemed...well, it seemed kind of like streaking in the halls at school to be moving through Giles' flat, naked...with a naked Giles, no less. She swallowed. "What if...? Uh...well...I mean, you never lock the door..."

"Are you expecting anyone?" he teased. "Come on, fraidy cat. I'm starting to chill and there's a perfectly good, blissfully warm bed only yards away."

He was right. He was also feeling romantic again, sweeping her into his arms and carrying her out of the bathroom and down the hallway with ease.

"This is nice," she told him, snuggling into his damp chest. "You know, you're sexy as hell when you get all macho on me." The chest moved up and down as he chuckled and turned to cross to the stairs. "As you are when you allow yourself to be the woman you are," he said softly, then froze at the sound of a rattle.

"Crap!" Buffy exclaimed just as the front door swung open in the same time honoured, thoughtless way it had always done.

"Hey, Giles...oh...my...God," Xander managed in one, almost whimpering, breath.

"Oh, isn't that cute? Xander, why don't you ever carry me around like that?" Anya wriggled her fingers in a cheerful wave.

Still facing the stairs, Buffy and Giles continued to remain frozen, their heads turned to the door and their eyes wide. Gradually both of them nodded and Buffy half-heartedly waved back.

"Kinda...uh...busy, guys. Can it wait til later?" she finally managed, when it was obvious that Giles was beyond speech.

"Later," Xander squeaked. "Much, much later."

"I told you Giles wouldn't want to discuss your brilliant remodelling ideas at this time of night. We could have been home doing what they've obviously been doing," Anya scolded as they retreated, ignoring Xander's repeated, 'oh, *God*,' as his mind extended the connotations of the view before him.

"So, so not going there. Thinking pretty thoughts of apocalypses and other less traumatic events," he continued to whimper, hustling her back out the front door so fast it banged shut behind them.

Giles didn't move for several more moments, until Buffy reached up and kissed his chin.

"My hero. You made Anya jealous. You should be proud."

He growled low in his throat, his neck still a fine shade of mulberry. "Not how I was planning to continue our evening," he finally said through his teeth.

"No? In that case, maybe you should focus on showing me what you really had planned," she teased gently, trying to get him to relax again. His body felt like an oak tree in motion as they climbed the stairs.

Buffy frowned as he put her down on the bed and straightened. "Hey," she said. "It was only Xander and Anya. It could have been worse. It could have been Quentin and half the council."

Giles stopped looking grim and goggled at her.

For a split second Buffy thought she'd made it worse, then realised that his mouth was no longer set like a steel trap. Instead it seemed quite perturbed. So perturbed in fact that it finally crumbled and he started to giggle.

Buffy watched him lovingly. He was a fun giggler and she'd had a *lot* of fun today. She had to admit imagining the look on Quentin's face if he'd walked in that door, beat even the comically horrified, 'scarred for life' look on Xander's. At that point she found herself joining in.

This time their giggles became full-blown laughter, and somehow, it wasn't just about Xander or Quentin anymore. They were still giggling as they snuggled down under the quilt together and Giles' chest continued to shake periodically even when they quietened down.

"It wasn't that funny," Buffy, playing with his chest hair, admonished when he chuckled yet again at some thought or other.

He turned a little and kissed her temple. "Yes it is. Of all the examples you could have used, you chose the very symbol of my former existence to be confronted by us in all our defiant...naked...glory. I found that extremely amusing.

"Well yeah, when you put it like that," she agreed happily and slid her hand down over his belly, to caress him unexpectedly. "You wanna rebel a little more before we go to sleep, Ripper, old chap?"

It was supposed to be a proposition but Giles couldn't help but laugh at Buffy's fractured British accent.

"Not especially, with you invoking Quentin Travers and bloody Biggles," he snorted.

"Who?"

Giles rolled his eyes. "Never mind. I've changed my mind," he growled and rolled over to monster her neck playfully.

The flat reverberated with the sounds of giggling and girlish squeals followed by more subdued sounds of two people swiftly slipping into the throes of passion once again.

The End.

AUTHOR'S PAGE