Title: A Hard Day's Night
Author: Ruth
Pairing: G/W/T
Rating: NC17, PWP
Summary: smut, smut, smut, smut, marching up and down again. My first PWP, be gentle with me…
Feedback: don't try to 'bring me back to the B/G fold'. I'm just playing here, folks.
Disclaimer: Please Joss, don't sue, I know they are yours. Don't tell Tony, Allyson or Amber. I've been a very naughty girl. Don't know who the Beatles belong to; lyrics I guess belong to Sir Paul McCartney, along with large tranches of the United Kingdom.

"Nervous, Giles?" Willow Rosenberg fidgeted, adjusting the drape of her skirt, projecting her own nerves to see if someone else would bring up all the second thoughts she didn't want to admit to and have to be the party pooper.

"Lord, no. It's not as if I haven't done this sort of thing before. Mind you, been a while... in more ways than one" Giles finished significantly, looking over his shoulder at the two young Wicca snuggled on his couch. They both looked faintly shocked at his candour, then *very* shocked as the double meaning occurred to both of them at once. Tara's expression pleaded with her lover to ask the question; Willow shook her head frantically, then glanced back at Giles in the kitchen. He was smiling his patient half-smile, waiting for them to grasp the nettle.

"You...you mean this 'two girls at one time' thing... you already..." Willow whimpered finally.

"The 1970's, I'm sure you've heard of them? Free love, plentiful dope and the happy presumption that every girl was on the Pill. Every generation thinks that it invented sex. The difference is that ours *did*". Giles' impish expression belied the apparent complacency in his voice. "Granted, I didn't knowingly consort with any ladies of your...persuasion: some things *have * become more relaxed since then." He turned back casually to stirring the contents of the pan.

In the lounge, the TV sounds changed from raucous upbeat commercial to chirpy announcer, then the unmistakable chords and voices of the 'Fab Four' in the opening sequence of " A Hard Day's Night".

"Come on Giles, it's starting. You can leave that to warm".

"Not unless you want omelette nog, I can't. Just needs a moment" The clunk of the wooden spoon took on a distinctly rhythmical quality, and he was humming over it.

"R-Rupert? " Tara had been granted the privilege of his first name right before he had left Sunnydale for the second time earlier that year, fool that he had been. "Are you *dancing* in there?"

Giles abruptly stopped the swaying of his hips and blushed. "N-no, no" he stammered, reverting delightfully to bumbling librarian for a second. Then he realised the utter absurdity of bashfulness in the circumstances, dipped a cup into the eggnog and took a large swig. The excellent brandy rode the other ingredients happily down to his stomach and settled there as he juggled silverware.

"Alright. Yes. So?" he challenged, shimmying nimbly, James Brown style, barefooted into the room. He was carrying a carved wooden tray with three crystal tumblers, a beautiful beaten silver punchbowl and matching ladle. He stood in front of the couch, ignoring their pleas to move out of the way of the screen.

"So where shall I sit?" he asked, eyeing the non-existent space between them and raising an eyebrow. Willow pouted, then grinned slyly, her wide mouth bringing interesting images into Giles' mind. His already tight black jeans became a little snugger. The two women slid apart to make a space for him. Setting the tray down on the low table, subliminally aware of Tara's interested eyes fixed on his rear as he bent over, he sank comfortably down onto the well-sprung seat of the couch, spreading his arms out across the back. Willow and Tara exchanged looks, and then cuddled in to him, a head on each shoulder. After a little pause he gathered them both against his sides, letting out a breath he hadn't been aware of holding in. It came out as a satisfied sigh that was echoed by his companions. They enjoyed the film in silence for a while, sipping warm eggnog, Giles occasionally humming and singing along to the hits.

"So, Giles, did you see this when it first came out?" piped up Willow after her second glass. His indignant face made her shrink a little into her seat.

"Hey, I was only ten! My father would never have let me *listen* to the Beatles, let alone watch this." He swiftly forgave her with his warm green eyes, and she put an arm across his waist, meeting Tara's arm halfway there and entwining their fingers. Giles shifted back in his seat so that their hands slid further down his body, and smirked as he put his feet up on the table, crossing his ankles. Both women's eyes were drawn to the impressive length of his legs and the way the denim moulded itself over his crotch. Willow unconsciously licked her lips, just as he began to sing along quietly to the lyrics: "I wanna be your lover, baby, I wanna be your man..."

Tara was humming in her clear musical voice, the vibration against his neck doing wonderful things to his nervous system. She chuckled suddenly and addressed Willow.

"So, which do you like best?"

"W-what?" Willow stared at her, wondering exactly *what* train of thought her partner thought she was following.

"John, Paul, George or Ringo? Everyone has a favourite Beatle," explained Tara patiently.

"Oh. Oh, right." Willow breathed in relief. She adored Tara beyond measure, but had found herself to be a woman of broad sexual tastes, and Giles was looking *very* tasty right now. It had been her idea to approach him when Tara had expressed a desire to explore the -to her- hitherto unknown world of the male body and male sexuality. Neither of them could think of a man they trusted more, who wouldn't treat them only as an exotic experience, nor try to convert one or other of them to the 'straight and narrow'. All the same, she'd been extremely surprised when, after the expected shocked protests, he'd agreed, setting up this evening as a way to relax them all, to make it about more than just the sex.

"Well" she continued "I sort of like Paul, cos he's nice, and that Mull of Kintyre song makes me think of mist and romantic ruins". She glared at Giles' derisive snort.

"The Mull of Kintyre is bloody cold, and full of wet sheep" he declared, with the authority of one who had been there. "What about you, Tara?" he gestured at the screen.

"George. He's quiet and kind of mysterious". She coloured prettily as Willow mouthed "Like you" proudly at her.

Giles emptied his glass. "I always fancied John, myself". He grinned cockily at their startled faces. "Oh, so you're here to take a walk on the Y side with boring straight old Giles, hmm?" The humour in his tone took any sting out of the reproof. "I have news for you two. Once upon a time, this old bloke was a randy, good looking rebel with a string of conquests of both sexes as long as your arm. Just because I've grown up and become serious about friendship, love and commitment, doesn't mean I can't appreciate life's infinite variety. After all, isn't that why you're both here?"

He drew a long forefinger sensuously up and down each of their upper arms, looking at the ceiling in mock innocence. A slow smile formed as two hands belonging to two people crept up his chest and insinuated themselves under the collar of his black linen shirt.

"Y'know", commented Tara "this movie is pretty long. You have a VCR, don't you, Rupert?"

"Mmm. And Willow here knows how to programme it"

The redhead cracked her knuckles and began to lean forward. "NO" her friends chorused, and she dropped to her knees, her face the picture of maligned virtue, searching under the table for the remote that Giles always discarded as "lazy".

"I *wasn't* going to" she protested. "No magicks, no sir, Mr. Giles, cold turkey for Willow. I learned my lesson". Her task done, the tape counter ticking away, the TV screen now blank, she put a delicate hand on the knee of her teacher and looked into his face. "So, I need something interesting to keep my busy mind occupied". She met Tara's eyes next, and nodded agreement to the unspoken cue. Giles inhaled sharply through his teeth as Willow ran her fingers swiftly and firmly up the inside of his leg at the same time as Tara put out her long tongue and flicked the silver hoop in his left ear. He swallowed hard, and then his bright smile lit up the shadowed room. According to the clock on the mantelpiece, Buffy would not be finished chaperoning her wayward younger sister at the movies for a long time, and she had to patrol after.. The evening was still plenty young enough to see if he still had any of the stamina of his youth. He shivered luxuriously under their renewed assaults, but stopped their hands fumbling frantically at his belt and pulling at the hem of his shirt.

"Slowly, slowly" he drawled.

"It's too nice a job to rush" finished the others in the squawking tones of 'Little Nell', and they all laughed, collapsing in a heap, tangling arms and legs, then turning to touching and fondling everywhere they could reach. Tara plucked his spectacles from where they sat askew his nose, and put them carefully aside.

"Upstairs" he said firmly, taking their hands and leading them to the foot of the stairs to the loft. He'd fortuitously found his old apartment falling vacant the same week he'd returned to deal with Willow's and Buffy's 'problems', at the Council's behest. Comfortable surroundings were a must for what they had in mind.

He'd prepared the bedroom in advance, and only had to light the joss sticks which stood in brass holders on every safe surface; the top sheet on the bed was gone and velvet and silk cushions and throws were scattered everywhere, including much of the floor. The women cooed approvingly and moved to stand one behind him, one in front. Willow's hands snaked around his waist to inch the belt tongue free of its buckle, whilst Tara, after a few seconds' hesitation, started with the top button of his shirt.

"I'm going to be at a disadvantage soon. May I?" he reached forward for the fastening of Tara's peasant blouse with a gentle question in his eyes as well as his words. He was asking her permission in a more far reaching way than the removal of clothing, conscious that she'd not travelled this way before, checking that she truly wished to make the journey. She nodded, suddenly eager to take that first step, and shuddered, amazed at the warmth spreading away from her shoulders and down her spine as his large, warm, man's hands caressed her whilst slipping the material down off her back and arms.

"My *word*"

Tara hadn't worn underwear, and the sight and then feel of her full creamy breasts stirred him both to awe and frank desire. The fact that Willow had unfastened his fly by now, and was delving into his shorts to stroke him didn't help. Well, actually it helped a lot. He turned to the redhead and wormed a hand under her long-sleeved t-shirt, brushing his knuckles against her ribs and the underside of her smaller breasts.

"Three cheers for Women's Lib" he whispered, working the t-shirt up and off over her head, with her help. As he moved to the zipper of her long skirt, Tara gently brushed his hand aside and completed the action, allowing her partner to step out of it, swaying gently as she pulled at Giles' jeans, working them down his legs. Her lips on the back of his thighs as she went made the hairs there stand on end deliciously. Tara meanwhile had finished opening his shirt and undone the cuffs so he could let it drop to the floor. Willow was trying to slide the boxers off his hips but he moved away, smiling slightly at her, so she would not take it as rejection, and took Tara's hands to lay one on the waistband. She seemed fascinated anew by his masculine form, petting and combing through his chest hair and tracing it down his stomach, feeling the contours of his bulkier muscles and broader shoulders. She couldn't miss the obvious erection that thrust the material of his shorts into sharp relief in the half light of the lamps, but couldn't quite bring herself to touch it just yet.

Willow had circled them both to move behind her partner and embrace her lovingly, kissing behind her ear and smelling her hair blissfully. One of her hands was busy divesting Tara of her loose trousers, the other slowly rubbed one nipple to a peak with her thumb. Giles couldn't take his eyes off the action; his mouth was dry and his groin throbbed urgently. It had been a hell of a long time since he'd been with anyone, let alone two gorgeous young things like these. He breathed steadily, racking the lust down a couple of notches before he embarrassed himself or put Tara off even theoretical interest in men for good. For such a shy person she was doing remarkably well, leaning into Willow's touch, eyes closed and lips parted, then going to her knees to investigate his every plane and curve, kneading his buttocks lightly, making pleased sounds of discovery as he clenched them reflexively.

<<Oh, God, *one* of you get down to business. A man can only take so much>>

As if she'd heard his thought, Willow touched Tara's shoulder briefly and together they lifted the boxers away and down over him, blowing softly on the exposed flesh, making Giles groan.

Tara's mouth was open in an 'o' of surprised appraisal; it was obvious she'd never seen a real live man naked and in this state before.

"That's, um, interesting" she murmured.

"Glad you think so" Giles replied with dry amusement. "It could get...more interesting, if you'd like. Willow, would you mind?" He indicated a small glass container of clear oil on the nightstand, and Tara's lover took it, uncorked it, and smelled the contents

"Ooh, coconut ice cream, your favourite, sweetie. Thanks, Giles" she handed the flask to Tara, who warmed it between her breasts before pouring some onto her fingertips. She began hesitantly to apply it, sliding his foreskin gently back and forth, making him grunt deep in his throat and run his hands into her hair, cradling her head as she concentrated on covering every inch from tip to root, rolling his balls in her palm and seeing how they pulled tight against his body. Her nose twitched at the enticing smell of the oil; he could see the instant she made the decision to go for it, and moved in apparent slow motion to cover the head of his penis. He made an encouraging sound, which became a moan as she sucked him in quickly. Natural talent or careful briefing, he didn't know and didn't much care. Her tongue was working him skilfully, tasting every drop of artificial and natural flavour, and the knowledge that she'd no doubt used some of the same moves on Willow almost brought him to climax then and there. What *was* it about two women together? He didn't give his own sexual responses much thought usually, just went with the flow, but it was strange how many men found lesbianism, or the idea of it, a turn on. His quick mind ditched the analysis but kept the idea.

"Ladies" he said silkily "I'm the only one around here who seems to be currently having fun. That " he told Tara gratefully "is...aah... exquisite, my dear, but you should stop for the present ".

Tara looked a little uncertain but complied. Giles drew his thumb across her bottom lip, wordlessly thanking her mouth for its contribution to his pleasure, then he turned her face up to Willow, who gathered her into her arms and began to kiss her passionately, their tongues mating, cupping each others' faces. They made an astonishingly beautiful pair - spice and honey. He wanted to cover himself in their sweetness.

He had them climb, still entwined, onto the big bed, keeping contact all the while, letting them take up as much room as they needed as they sprawled against each other. Mingled streams of shining hair flowed out across the pillows as they writhed slowly together, bodies whispering at their contact points. Tara was completely naked now; Willow still wore a pair of silk panties in a vivid emerald green. She looked back at Giles, kneeling by the bed as he watched them, and offered him the opportunity with a beckoning finger and a hand splayed in the small of her back, pushing the material partway down. He covered the hand with his and slipped the panties down over her slender bottom and legs, exposing her gradually, keeping his fingertips against her skin all the while, testing its fine texture and the delicate curves of her knee and ankle bones. He trailed the wispy fabric teasingly over the sole of one foot, enjoying her giggle and squirm, and climbing onto the bed behind her as he dropped this last scrap of her clothing to the floor. She turned from her eager enjoyment of her beloved's lush curves to the solid strength of his body; as she did so, he looked down at her and grinned cheekily. He knew she coloured the hair on her head, but the fiery red of her bush sure as dammit wasn't natural either. She followed his gaze and Tara leaned over to see too.

"That's new" she smiled, stroking her lover down there "I like it. You get that done this morning? You were just going for highlights".

"Thought I'd blow my budget and get "low" lights as well", punned Willow, looking out from under her lashes at Giles, who seemed hypnotised by the movement of Tara's hand: he was breathing in time to the steady rhythm. "That new chemistry book will have to wait"

"Ooh, someone's been a naughty girl" he chided, still in time to the stroking "Neglecting your studies for the sake of decadent adornment?"

"I think we're both taking our studies very seriously, Professor Giles. In fact, on the subject of this evening's symposium, what area of the syllabus would you like to cover next?"

She reached out and plucked several times on the tip of his sex, which visibly stiffened more as he gasped. Tara moved her attentions to his chest again, reaching past Willow, pressing against her back. "That's...a good introduction" he panted, "but, um, eventually...in fact, preferably quite soon..." he teased apart the flames between her legs and when she parted her thighs further, slid his forefinger intimately over the nub and on inside. He thrust it gently back and forth in time to her hand as it moved on him, adding more fingers as she encouraged him vocally.

Tara watched them both curiously, intellectually interested *and* aroused by the sweaty carnality of it all, even by their obvious excitement at the prospect of penetration, something she herself had never wanted to experience. Willow knew things about men and what they liked, had in the past liked it too. However Giles got off in some fashion on seeing them together, on undressing them and being undressed, at the core this stimulation was what he craved. Seeing this normally reserved man surrender himself to the need, giving Willow power over him because he trusted her, filled Tara with pride in her partner. Giles and Willow had been looking into each other's eyes, not with the love and commitment Tara shared with her, but with a mutual acknowledgement of the purely physical pleasure they were getting and giving. Now he looked straight at Tara, asking her "Luv, if you want to do this with me instead you can; if you want to watch or don't. It's alright whatever you choose, you understand?"

"Yes. I...I want Willow to carry on, but will you let me touch her too?"

"Surely. Aah, ohh, Willow, it's time *now*... *please*" he opened the top drawer of the nightstand and palmed a square of foil, but Willow shook her head.

"Uh-uh, I'm fixed. Helps with the old PMT, and I'm sure you're squeaky clean..."

Giles threw the packet onto the floor gleefully.

"Hate those things anyway. Like fucking in a shopping bag"

Willow's look of surprise at his coarse language gave way to a sensual shiver at his directness as he rolled onto his back and had her slide down onto him, riding him as he bucked hard for several minutes. The power he put into it, enough to batter the bed back and forth, unnerved Tara a little, but her Willow, so gentle with her, seemed enthusiastic enough. They had seen Giles use his power, both physical and spiritual, only for good. The Male, the Other, was not here a threat, only a counterpoint to them.

Their man friend stilled Willow's hips, lifted her bodily and laid her carefully back on the bed. Calling Tara over, he offered her the chance to taste Willow's juices on him and she took it, sweeping her tongue over and around him and tasting too, some of the power her lover had wielded, listening to his breathy cries. She turned now to her love and they kissed, brought each other to the edge quickly with knowing hands and tumbled over together.

Giles smoothed his hands over their backs as they loved, controlling himself with difficulty, the women's ecstasy making him desperate to find his own release. But Willow had not forgotten him and he opened his eyes again to see her on her back, relaxed and extending an inviting hand. It might have been a totally conventional ending to an extraordinary endeavour, but there were times when the basic plan worked just fine; she held him close, face turned into his shoulder ankles locked round his back, grasping him tightly with internal muscles and turning every nerve to fire as they rocked fiercely. He could feel the wave rising up and he let it take him and dash him to pieces on the shore, leaving him gasping for air, heart pounding, laughing with relief.

******************************

Buffy let herself in with the key she knew Giles kept under the plant pot. She stopped just inside the door: the sound of a man's laughter - it had to be Giles' - drifted down from the loft bedroom. Then someone else - female - joined in. Seeing no one in the lounge, Buffy tiptoed upstairs, and when she reached the top, promptly dropped her bag of weapons straight on her own foot. Hopping and rubbing her toe at the same time as trying to take in the scene before her - including just how many clothes people were *not* wearing, her stunned expression only made her friends and her Watcher laugh even more, as they busied themselves covering up with whatever they could find.

Several pithy Slayer comments sprang to mind, and sprang right back out again. << Boy am I glad of those last two vamps. If I'd come back any earlier...>> "*WHAT* is going on here?"

"Research party?" offered Willow weakly.

"Rupert's been...working real hard," added Tara. "Y'know, watching and ...stuff"

Buffy looked at Giles expectantly, and he stifled another fit of the giggles. At last he sobered enough to assure her, nodding seriously:

"Working like a dog".

END