Title : Disneyland
Author: Laura Smith
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: ABH
Disclaimer: All characters and the concept of "BtVS" belong to Joss Whedon
and other people who are not me. No infringement is intended.
Feedback: I'd love to know what you think! Let me know. Feedback is
encouraged and appreciated!
You look at your watch for what must be the 100th time. Inside you're berating yourself for getting your hopes up, although you're still managing a smile for the excited family of four who have asked you to take their picture. You hand them back their camera, waving away their thanks. You're about to start off on your search again when you hear those dreaded words.
"Excuse me, ma'am?"
You sigh, not wanting to turn around. "Yes?"
"I wondered if you might take a picture of me and my…kids?"
God's teeth. Are you wearing a sign that says 'Got stood up, please rub it in'? "Sure, I've got nothing better to…do." You turn, surprised to see Buffy, Willow, Xander and Oz. You automatically look for the voice. "You bastard."
You say it lightly, glad to see him smile. "Sorry."
"No you're not. You're late."
"But not alone," Willow's voice was sad, as though she knows how much you'd rather be alone with him.
"But Giles said kids didn't bother you," Buffy's grin is infectious. "And since we all chipped in for your air fare, not to mention got him to actually *take* a vacation…"
"And neglected to tell me you would be here until we walked in through the gates," Rupert adds quickly, his eyes letting you know exactly how pleased he is with the surprise his "kids" have arranged for the two of you.
You take back all of your nasty thoughts you've been thinking. Well, the mean ones, anyway. "Well, now that you're here, what shall we do?"
Buffy and Willow both blush while Xander and Oz smile meaningfully. "Why don't we split up?" Oz asks. "You two could go off and, uh, talk and we'll take the girls to Fantasyland."
"Oz, my man, I've been doin' that since I met 'em." We all laugh at Xander's comment as they leave us, standing together in the middle of Main Street.
"So," You adjust your small backpack, hyper conscious of your tank top and shorts. Especially since those green eyes you dream about are running over the wealth of exposed flesh. "Where would you like to go?" You manage to ask, pointing at the map of the park.
"Your hotel room."
His soft reply sends a ripple of wanting up your spine. Nodding, you step closer. "Okay."
He glances around quickly, noting that the teenagers are long gone. Placing his hand against your cheek, he leans down and kisses you lightly.
It's like a kind of torture to have just a taste of him. You pull away, taking his hand and heading for the exit. Your mind is reeling. You're strolling along with the man you've been trying to convince yourself you're not in love with.
It really is the happiest place on earth.
***
The monorail back to the hotel is packed, so he casually seats you on his lap. It takes all your willpower not to groan as you feel the hardness of his erection against you. Leaning back, you rest against his strong chest. "Did you miss me, Rupert?"
His hands grab your hips as he rotates his, showing you just how much. "I think the question you mean to ask, love," he whispers in your ear, "Is am I happy to see you."
You turn your head so that he can see your smile. "No. I can tell you're happy to see me. I just want to know if you get like this whenever you think of me."
"Fishing for compliments?" He raises one eyebrow. "All right…"
You watch him, unable to disguise your loving, anticipating smile.
"You remember the books you lent me?"
Remember? Right. Like you didn't relive those particular two days over and over. "Vaguely."
He grins. "Every time I touch one, whenever I run my hand over the smooth surface, I imagine your skin. I imagine kissing it, nibbling on it…"
"Really?" you ask breathlessly. His voice is warm and his lips graze your earlobe with every word.
"Really." He lowers his voice even more so that you feel it more than hear it. "I find I touch those books quite a lot."
You're glad you're sitting down, since you know your legs are completely incapable of supporting you. "I…" You pause, struggling to get your voice to come out right. "…I can think of something much better to touch."
His thumbs, which had been resting on your hips suddenly slip beneath the fabric of your shirt. "So can I."
The monorail finally stops at your hotel and you head for the lobby. Surely the air conditioning will cool you down.
Rupert rests his hand on the small of your back, burrowing underneath your top so that it's resting on bare skin. "Which floor, love?"
"Six."
He leans toward you and the heat from his body buffets you like waves. "I suggest we head for the elevator soon. Or I may have to do something rather private to you right here in the lobby."
You picture a slightly reserved, very British Watcher - make that *your* slightly reserved, very British Watcher - pushing you up against one of the walls of the lobby and starting to touch you.
"Hold the elevator!"
***
Neither of you speak as you hurry down the hall to your room. He's holding your hand, caressing your palm with his thumb.
You slip your backpack off and pull out your key. He steps back as you open the door, but you can clearly hear his surprised gasp echo yours.
The room is filled with the heady scent of carnations. You inhale the spicy tinge they give the air. "It's amazing."
"If only they applied themselves this much to their real lives," he sighs.
"Stop being an adult." You walk into the room and take the card off the bed. "Shall I?"
He shuts the door and nods. You smile, realizing for the first time that he's wearing jeans. "What?" he asks quietly.
"You look sexy." Shaking you head, you open the card. "We figured since we're in Fantasyland, you should be too. See you for dinner."
His smile is the only outward sign of pride, but it's there. "I'm guessing you like carnations?"
"I'm guessing they're nice, but cheap." You move a bouquet of them off the bed and sit down. The surprise of the room dissipated the urgency but not the ache. "Rupert?"
"Yes love?"
"In my fantasy, you're a lot closer."
***
Rupert moves forward and all you can think of is a panther on the prowl. The black jeans, the black shirt. Heavens, does this man not know how to dress for California? "How close, love?" You start to answer when he reaches you and presses you back to the mattress. His body stretches along the length of yours and you notice, not for the first time, his raging arousal. "This close?"
You shake your head. "Closer."
If sex had a sound, it would be the warm chuckle he gives you. You know that, logically, you heard it, but you mind is insisting it missed your ears and went straight for the spinal cord. He thrusts against you, his denim clad lower body wreaking havoc on your nerves.
"Rupert?" you manage to squeak.
"Hmmm?" He's nuzzling your neck just beneath your earlobe and you realize you've got erogenous zones you hadn't even realized. "Did you say something?" His tongue flicks across your warm skin and you're not sure that you're going to live through this seduction.
"No."
He pulls away and you're afraid for a fraction of a second that he's misunderstood. The fear dissipates, however, when you see his eyes. They're dark with need and desire as they gaze down at you. You follow their path and notice the hard peaks of your nipples standing out against the thin cotton of your tank top. "You're body is rather expressive."
"What is it saying?"
"I'm not quite sure yet." He runs his finger over the fabric, rubbing circles around the attentive flesh. "I'll have to listen a bit closer." Bending his head, he takes the nipple, shirt and all, into his mouth. You feel the heat of his mouth but all it does is serve to make you want more.
You push him away, surprising both of you. Sitting up, you use your shaky hands to tear the top from your body. As quickly as you can you rid yourself of your bra before lying back down. "Sorry."
He comes forward again, his intentions very clear in his eyes. "Sorry? I'm not."
The heat had been enticing before but with nothing between his mouth and your flesh, it's bordering on intoxicating. You arch up to his mouth, your hand tangling in his hair to hold him there. You thrust your hips, unable to stop yourself.
He chuckles against your now damp skin. "Anxious, love?"
"You're not?" You're glad he doesn't look at you, knowing that you can't pull off the cool, curious tone if he sees your face, flushed with desire.
"Very." He pulls back and lifts his shirt up, easing it off of his body. He tosses it aside then returns to you. The rough hairs of his chest scrape against you as he settles beside you. With a practiced hand, he unhooks the button of your shorts and eases the zipper down.
His hand slips between the folds of the material, resting on the low cut of your panties. You bite your lip and grind up against his hand, begging him for his touch. He torments you, his fingers stroking but not satisfying.
You turn slightly so that you can see him better, your hand straying to his belt buckle. "You looked very nice today. I never pictured you in silk."
"Buffy and Willow dressed me." He mumbles into the shoulder he's begun nibbling on.
You laugh softly. "I hope not literally."
Pulling back, he grins happily. "Why's that, love?"
"Because I'd hate for all their hard work to go to waste." You slip the belt from its loops, the sound of the leather rushing against the denim sending a chill down your spine. "As you're not going to be wearing anything much longer."
You unfasten his jeans and pull away from him, somewhat reluctantly. The soft curve of your stomach where his hand had rested feels cold.
Standing, you slip your shorts off and stand in front of him, trying not to be self-conscious.
His eyes roam over you, taking in your nervous stance and the new satin lingerie you'd purchased specifically for the occasion. "You look amazing."
You blush magnificently as he stands in front of you and eases the black denim over his muscled thighs. You hold your breath as he sets them aside and moves his hands to curl around the elastic of his briefs.
"You look…" You stop as the material starts southward, swallowing hard.
He stops, tantalizing you with a view of the dark hair trailing down his stomach. "I look…?"
You mean to say sexy. Or appetizing. Or something complimentary enough that he knows you want him buried inside you. Instead, you offer him, "I think I've fallen in love with you." You shut your mouth, horrified that those words passed your lips.
His hands leave his hips and he sits back on the bed, shock prevalent on his features. "Oh my."
You fall to your knees between his legs, your hands folded together as though in prayer. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry?"
Tears fill your eyes and you wish you'd never spoken. His hand reaches out to touch your hair. "Love?" Moving his hand down, he tilts your chin up. "Do you mean it?"
The tears fall as you nod, unable to deny the feelings now that they've been spoken.
He pulls you to him, heedless of your states of undress. You bury your head against his thigh as he strokes your hair in an attempt to soothe you. "Shh, my love. Shh. Were you afraid it was one-sided?"
Turning your head slightly, you look at him, your heart speeding up as you see him smile. "It's not exactly an ideal situation, is it?" Hope has started to build, but you're afraid to believe what you think he's telling you. "Distance, responsibility…"
"One thing living on the Hellmouth has taught me," his eyes seem to grow misty. "Is to take advantage of the good things you come across."
Grinning wickedly, you wink at him. "My thoughts exactly, Mr. Giles."
He looks at you questioningly as you kiss your way up his thigh. Then realization dawns and his smile mirrors yours. With infinite care, you trail your tongue over the material covering his glorious erection. You grasp the waistband and ease it down, freeing him.
He raises himself off the bed and you slip the briefs off him before moving back between his legs. Your tongue traces the underside of his cock before you engulf it, taking the hard length of him between your lips.
His thighs grow taut as you move your head, applying steady suction. The taste of his skin is indescribable. You clutch his firm legs, your nails sinking into his skin.
He thrusts his hips forward, holding tightly to the edge of the bed. The harsh throbbing pulse, coupled with his increasing thrusts, lets you know how close he is. You pull back slightly, focussing your attention on the engorged, sensitive tip.
He cries out your name, his orgasm explosive. You drink him in, filling yourself with his essence. Your lips coax every drop from him, only allowing him to collapse back onto the bed when he's completely spent. Pulling away, you lick your lips. "How am I doing?"
He swallows, trying to find his voice. "Doing?"
You stand and gaze lovingly down at him. "At taking advantage of the good things."
He sits up and grabs your hips, pulling you to him. His lips press against your panties, his warm breath tumbling through the material to the tangle of curls between your legs. "Fine. Fine. But perhaps you'd let someone with a little more practice at it show you how it's done?"
His hands go to work before you can answer, easing the satin off your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him. He curls the downy hairs around his tongue, playing with you before slipping the tip in the cleft between your thighs. His taste of you is achingly shallow and over far too quickly. He grabs your hands and guides you to the bed.
Laying you down, he smoothes his hands all over you before parting your legs to allow him access to your heated core. You moan softly as his warm breath joins the cool air that rushes over you as he parts the dark red flesh of your sex.
You recapture your breath just before his tongue darts out to send you screaming into ecstasy again. You buck up against his tongue; your eyes closed as you lose yourself in the sensations. He laps at your clit; his tongue never stopping as it dances over the hard, swollen flesh.
You mutter little cries of pleasure and agony, feeling the crest of your climax ebb and flow as he torments you. The tip of his finger traces the lips of your vagina, never entering you no matter how much you plead. Moaning his name, you reach down and thread your hands in his hair. Pulling his teasing mouth away from you, you try to glare at him through your fevered state. "Rupert…"
He crawls up your body, reminding you again of a cat stalking its prey. His lips, tasting of you, hover over yours. "Did you want something, love?"
"Please?" you can barely whisper. "I need you inside me."
He raises an eyebrow as your body wriggles beneath him, striving for the feel of his cock inside you. Moving just a bit, he positions himself above you. "Love? Stop moving for just a moment?"
You lie still immediately. You're rewarded with the hard press of the tip of his erection parting your nether lips. Lifting your hips, you open yourself up, allowing him better access. He slips in, sighing as your wet heat surrounds him.
"You feel wonderful, love."
No, you decide. You feel complete. "You make me feel wonderful, Rupert."
He begins moving inside you, building the rhythm slowly but steadily to make it last. The dark hairs of his chest caress you, making your body tingle with their sensual feel. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer. You're awash in sensation, the rest of the world fallen away in silence.
He's become your world, this man you were so afraid of giving yourself to. He's narrowed the world to just the two of you and you wonder how you're supposed to go back to the real world when this is all finished. You look up into his green eyes and see the same questions there, tempered by love and need.
Suddenly, you realize if there is love and need, nothing else matters. You smile and urge him to increase the pace, the edge of orgasm he'd brought you to before quickly returning. He complies, his eyes shining. You arch your back, forcing your clit against the rough hairs surrounding his cock. The muscles of your channel tighten around him and he cries out, buffeting you with his orgasm. He continues thrusting, spilling himself inside you, until you echo his cry and spiral into bliss.
***
He glances at the clock and sighs. It's gotten late and you both have to meet the kids for dinner. "We should shower."
"Do you think if we do that we're going to get out of here in time to eat?" You laugh as he blushes. He's about to respond when both of your stomachs growl as if on cue. When the giggles subside, you decide laughter should be required after sex.
"Did you mean it, love?"
You don't need to ask what he's talking about, it's in his voice. "Yes, Rupert. I did. I do."
He nods. "I love you too."
You stretch before rolling away and climbing off the bed. "It's my room, do I get the shower first?"
"Ladies always go first." He sits up, reaching for the glasses you hadn't even noticed him taking off. You reach the bathroom door before he speaks again. "What are we going to do, love?"
You look at him over your shoulder, your smile just as self-satisfied as it had been earlier. "Well, I don't know. Do you think a professor of mythology would qualify as a Sunnydale High research assistant?"
"I'm not sure, I'd have to see your qualifications."
"See them, Mr. Giles?" You hide behind the bathroom door, just your grinning face visible. "I'd say you've already put them to the test."
"Well then, I'd have to weigh you against all the other candidates…"
"Sunnydale High has a casting couch?"
He gets off the bed and heads for the bathroom, capturing you in a tight hug. "Sunnydale High has a very comfortable couch."
"You know you're going to have to prove that."
He leads you to the shower, giving you a loving kiss. "I fully intend to."
END