Title: LOVE SLAVE
Author: theCAT
Pairing: B/G with some early B/R.
Rating: NC17, contains a description of near rape.

Note: This is my answer to trish’s challenge below:
(ODD Challenge #27)


AUTHORS NOTE: Once I began working on this story, the characters began speaking to me . . . they do that sometimes. (Did I forget my magic pills?) I couldn’t quite stay within trish’s parameters. This is not a gentle, light story. It contains angst in moderate proportion, but more, it contains confusion and pain due to unfortunate sexual experiences and fears. It also contains loving and consensual sex between adult characters. If you are offended by graphic sexual descriptions and some brutality (no worse than Spike and Buffy season five/six) do not read this story.

Thanks Deb for the beta. All errata (mish mash and confusion) remaining in this story are mine.

If anyone wishes to add this to their rogues’ gallery, please tell me where it has a home so I can petition for visitation. ;-)

NOTE/DISCLAIMER: I do not own Buffy or Giles or Riley or the Initiative (nor would I want the Initiative EEEWW!). I am not making a blessed cent on this story. It is costing me money to write it as I should be working on a webpage. Buffy, Giles and the other characters from BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, UPN and any other entity which has invested time, talent or money in their creation and promotion.

Riley wanted to fuck.

He wanted Sex. With her. He’d said so this afternoon, quite insistently. Told her. “We’ve been dating two months now, Buffy. This is college, not high school. It’s time we have sex.” It was so cold sounding. You scratch my itch for me. Was that what it all was? Were romance novels fairy tales?

Buffy had heard the guys talking among themselves when she was in the room with them and they were whispering in the corners; even when they slipped into the next room to talk. Slayer hearing. They thought they were being discrete and talking where she couldn’t hear them about the girls they had laid and how they had done it. Something about their furtive attitudes, their rough descriptions of sexual conquest and the way they almost seemed to think of the women as ‘things’ made Buffy nauseous. It was like a game and they kept score, they all seemed to tell each other about every little encounter. And they said girls talked about everything. Buffy squirmed, wondering if Riley would talk about her that way to his frat brothers.

The evening after Riley had made his demands on her, Buffy was sitting in the frat house watching the news, killing time before patrol. Riley had sat by her side, pressing his point by fondling her legs and kissing her neck. Buffy was beginning to find it annoying when one of Riley’s frat brothers, a guy named Frank, came in to the room and, with an excited grin, motioned Riley over to the corner.

“Didja score?” Riley asked Frank, looking over his shoulder at Buffy slouched down in the soft padded couch. “God, she was gorgeous. Didja really get her?”

“Yeah,” grunted Frank.

“How did it go? Tell me,” Riley begged.

“Christ, she was a hottie,” groaned Frank. “I got her on the bed in her room, on her hands and knees. She was wiggling and fighting, pretending she didn’t want it, but I knew . . . she’d been pushing herself at me all night,“ he grinned at Riley.

Riley’s eyes were practically popping out of his head, Buffy noted, watching the two of them from the corner of her eyes, pretending she wasn’t listening. “What did you do?” Riley wiggled a bit, like he was uncomfortable.

“Got her down on the bed and started playing with her. She started crying. So I got closer made her feel.so she’d forget. After about ten minutes she stopped crying and let me in.” He grunted. “Frigid bitch. Teasing me all night but she was worth it. She was so tight and her tits . . . they were big and soft and huge. I think I must have come about four times,” he bragged. “One time in her mouth.”

“Christ,” groaned Riley. “What did she do?”

“Not much,” grumbled Frank. “I had to do all the work. Mostly she lay there and groaned.”

Buffy shut off the discussion. She hated it when Riley made her sick. The two guys moved off to a table in the corner of the room. Male bonding, she thought, as they basically ignored her. When they headed for the kitchen to get a beer, Buffy slipped out the door into the night. Her stomach churned. Buffy knew she needed advice. Not from her mother, who would look at her and say, “He wants what?” Buffy needed to talk to a guy. Riley was a guy. She needed to know about guyness, if the way Riley and his friends thought about sex was right. Was this the way guys thought? She couldn’t ask Xander. All he thought about was sex, that was true, but know much about sex? Hardly. Other than perhaps what Anya taught him. But if Buffy asked him, he’d choke and stumble around, cracking jokes because he was embarrassed and she’d never get her question answered.

Buffy didn’t have any answers about sex. She’d never been enough in love to want to share herself like that. Even with Angel. Angel had been a mystery, a creature of the dark who faded in and out of her life, romantic, elusive, an impossible dream. Perfect for an angsty teen. He’d faded out of her life permanently at her graduation. Both of them recognized there was no future for them and Buffy was grateful that she had never made the decision to sleep with the vampire. If they’d been lovers, his leaving would have wounded her far more deeply.

If she had been that intimate with Angel, his leaving would have come close to destroying her. She knew that, instinctively it seemed, about being . . . lovers. That intimacy increased the intensity of an emotional bond. That gut knowledge, even without the experience of sex - in fact it was that knowledge that seemed to be keeping her from giving herself sexually - seemed to imply much more than Riley and his friends seemed to think about sex.

Becoming Lovers ought to mean caring, tenderness, soft touches and kissing, gentleness . . . what else. So what was it with the guys at the frat? And Frank’s ideas about sex must be wrong, she thought. If he was wrong, what was it that he had really done with the girl he and Riley had been talking about?

She got her answer when she found Lisa Conway sitting on the swings in the campus day care center, dazed and out of it. Buffy arrived just in time to dust the vampire bending over her unnaturally still form. “Lisa?”

“I wanted him to kill me.”

“No, you don’t.” Buffy dropped to her haunches by Lisa’s side.

“Yes, I do. Frank was talking about me at the Frat House tonight, wasn’t he?”

Buffy dropped her eyes to stare at the dirt at her feet.

“You don’t have to pretend, Buffy. I’ve been there when they were talking and they didn’t think I heard them. They all talk about ‘scoring.’”

“Are you okay?”

“I didn’t want to do it, you know . . . “ Lisa whispered. “Not with Frank. He never saw me as a person. But he was so terribly strong. And he hurt me.”

Buffy reached up and pushed aside the curtin of Lisa’s black hair, seeing the terrible bruise that crept up the side of her face from her chin. “Oh, God, Lisa.”

She tugged the girl up from the swing. “Come on. You need to go to the Infirmary.”

Listlessly, Lisa followed her.

A couple of hours later, a confused and angry Buffy stalked along the sidewalk that ran parallel to one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. The whisper of footsteps following her finally penetrated her thoughtful haze and a cold hand gripped her shoulder. Buffy spun around, stake in hand, and dusted the fledgling vamp. She shook the dust off her arms. Vamp – dusting – Slayer – Watcher . . . Giles! Answer man. Warm feeling stirred in her chest. She needed to talk to Giles. He’d help her.

She stuck the stake back in her waistband and trotted off down the street toward her Watcher’s home.

Rupert Giles, unsuspecting male, Watcher and ex-librarian, sat with his stockinged-feet on his coffee table, reading an ancient text, the BOOK OF DOOM by a gentleman named Verparosa. What he held in his hands was a 13^th century copy of a 2nd Century Roman temple manuscript scroll. He’d been reading it, almost as though compelled to do so, since it arrived Special Delivery yesterday morning. He had nearly reached the end of the book.

Giles was as confused as he had ever been. He had yet to figure out what the Doom was or why it had been sent to him. The book seemed mostly to deal with the amorous adventures of three Roman men of the second century C.E. Verparosa, the author, described minutely the machinations and predilections of the trio. Viagrosa, the oldest of the group, seemed to spend a great deal of time buying off Lust daemons and generating spells to prop up his waning sexual vigor. With the effects of his sex magic in place, Viagrosa pursued young, nubile females, tempting them with his wealth and position.

Virilius, the youngest one of the three, kept a running commentary going, between marathon bouts of bedding Viagrosa’s grand-daughter and several of her friends, about the impossibility that any young and sexually attractive female would want the older man. At least, thought the Watcher, Viagrosa would treat the women well, be grateful for their favor, but Giles couldn’t see any reason why any woman would voluntarily get into bed with Virilius, the prat, whose idea of love making was a quick doggy-style shag with almost no foreplay and apparently no concern as to the satisfaction of his partner.

The middle-aged one, Amorosa, whom Giles believed was a pseudonymous Verparosa himself, spent his time worshipping at the temples with Hetaerae and reading scrolls, attempting to improve his techniques for giving pleasure to a woman. Giles shook his head, totally amazed at Amorosa’s sexual curiosity. The ancient Roman kept noting that every time he enhanced the pleasure of his partner, his reward was an increase in his own pleasure. Giles didn’t doubt that was true.

The Watcher grumbled loudly to himself about having to read the book, although he almost felt compelled to do so. It frustrated him. (The Council, in the guise of the sender, had been very insistent and had even offered him consultant’s pay, as, at the moment, their association with Giles was tenuous.) Eventually Giles had to admit to a complete fascination with Verparosa’s delight and adoration of women and his single-minded pursuit of their pleasure, and also acknowledge that his objection to reading the book was the havoc it raised in his libido.

Giles reread a three-paragraph description of how to use the rough pressure of the tongue to increase pleasures of suckling the female breast whilst fingering a woman to orgasm. The description was so graphic that the Watcher found himself tugging at the crotch of his cords to relieve pressure on his suddenly turgid penis. The book was amazingly titillating and informative. Christ, he wished Olivia were still here so he could get some use out of the information. Reading the book created a low simmering sensual desire he hadn’t felt in a long time. Damn.

He glanced over an illustration of Amorosa preparing a temple virgin for sacred coitis. It was fascinating the way he used his fingers to increase the young girl’s arousal and to stretch the hymen and thin it to reduce the pain of first intercourse. Something focused Giles attention. Hmm, he recommended entry to the point where the penis forcibly pressed against the barrier and then stillness whilst holding that pressure for a few moments. Sometimes the rupture was spontaneous, sometimes the hymen stretched around the penis. Giles rubbed his nose, totally focused again on the aged print. He wondered if this sort of information was basic to Roman Sexual Norms/Mores? Then, studying the drawing again, he wondered if a small Release Spell might ease things, so to speak. Might be a fascinating paper in this book . . . he continued reading, filing away fact after fact, growing more and more aroused at the Verparosa’s frank and bawdy descriptions.

And then it suddenly dawned on him as he read the section on the Initiation of Sophia into the Mysteries -- Amorosa was a Watcher, the Temple he worshipped in was the Roman Headquarters of the Council of Watchers, and Sophia was Amorosa’s Slayer, whom he initiated at the age of 14 into the Mysteries of Dionysus.

Sweating heavily, Giles threw his head back against the couch. “Oh my God,” he groaned. He looked at the book as though it were a snake. Then he laughed. Well, that might have been the of way things back in ancient Rome . . . women married and bore children at a very young age, and didn’t live very long either. And, of course, Sophia was a virgin. Little danger of having a virgin Slayer in today’s world. Pictures of the searing looks shared by his Slayer and her Vampire lover paraded across the screen of his memory. No, little danger of that.

He stared down at the volume in his hand again. The book was amazing, a source of incredible information for any man who wished to pleasure a woman sexually and be certain she was satisfied and replete from his lovemaking. Giles was indeed such a man. He had always been such a man and he was truly interested in what the book was offering him. But he still couldn’t figure out why someone on the Council had forwarded this book to him. Its subject matter was just a bit the other side of beyond the scope of his duties as a Watcher in today’s world. The Council had instituted all sorts of rules that banished the contents of this volume into beyond. Romantic fraternization between Watcher and Slayer had been forbidden since 1203 C.E. Giles shook his head.

And as far as personal use for this information, would he ever get to use this information while he Watched an active Slayer? The chances of that ranged from ludicrously unlikely to virtually impossible. Romance had no place in his life, which meant his sex life was non-existent. And as for deflowering a virgin - Giles resisted the urge to giggle like a barking madman. He looked down at his enthusiastic penis straining his cords into a magnificent tent and slapped at it. And what the hell was he going to do about his state of arousal?

He put the book down on the coffee table, carefully marking his place in the last chapter with his discarded tie, preparatory to making himself a fresh pot of tea and taking a few moments to allow things that had tightened up magnificently if uselessly to relax.

Then his door flew open and his Slayer barged in.

“B – b-buffy!” He sat down quickly.

“Giles!” She trotted across the room and dropped on the couch next to him. “What are ya doing?” She looked at the table and the aged tome lying there. “Never mind. Got it. You’re researching. Anything I need to know?”

Oh God, he thought. “Er .. No. Just something in the nature of some general research an old friend on the Council of Watchers has asked me to do. Some second century scrolls from the old Roman Council of Watchers Headquarters that were transliterated to a bound text in the 13^th century.” Giles motioned toward the book, feeling the heat creeping up his neck toward the tips of his ears. “Nothing you need worry about.”

Buffy lifted the text to look for a title, and then flipped through several of the stiff velum pages, missing the illustrations. Thank God. “It is in Latin,” Giles told her.

She dropped the cover and he winced as a cloud of dust rose from the pages. “Jeez, Giles, spend much time doing dirty things?” she quipped at him.

You simply have no idea, he thought. “Can I do something for you? Tea, perhaps?” He stood and wandered toward the kitchen. His erection had partially subsided, as she mishandled the book, at least enough for him to stand.

“Yeah, thanks.” She shifted in her seat. Her face was a study of confusion and discomfort. Giles was intrigued. It was relatively early. Her precipitous arrival indicated that something was bothering his Slayer. He put a tray together and poured the boiling water over the tealeaves in his warmed pot. She looked up at him as he deposited his burden on the coffee table.

Buffy sipped at her tea, then set it down to spoon some more sugar into it. Giles winced again. She saw it from the corner of her eyes and it made her want to giggle. Then she remembered the bruised and bedraggled girl she had accompanied to the Infirmary at U Sunnydale an hour or so before. Lisa had not quite been raped, but she had been traumatized and treated callously. All Buffy’s questions about intimacy and sex and love tumbled around, churning in her guts again. The tea would continue to taste bitter.

She stirred her tea and looked up at Giles from under her lashes. Her Watcher was an attractive male. She knew this. Buffy Summers was not blind, nor was she unaware. Well, sometimes she wasn’t unaware, she amended. But Giles, she had known Giles was adorable since she was 16 and he had thrown that VAMPYR book down in front of her. He had been nervous and uncertain and a bit Hugh Grantish or maybe Alan Rickmanish, she decided, but even then, something about her Watcher made her insides quiver and heat. Buffy had pushed that reaction to the back of her mind for those first few years. It didn’t fit with her idea of a Slayer/Watcher relationship based on what she had known with Merrick. And she was afraid. Afraid of how overwhelming her feelings for her Watcher were. Now she wondered would he be like Riley and the guys? She looked up at him again. Somehow their type of behavior didn’t seem Giles-like.

Giles . . . she watched him and sipped again at her cup, studying his hands. They gently carried his teacup to his lips. How might they feel on her skin? Something inside her jumped. This was crazy! She had dragged Lisa to the Infirmary and she had seen how sex could hurt and now here she sat fantacizing about her Watcher. She really was heading over the edge here.

But God, that mouth of his should be declared a crime, a sex offence, the Slayer thought. Back in High School, when she’d seen him kissing Ms. Calendar in the library, her first reaction had been a jealous stab of the major proportion, and then she’d hared off into the protective coloration of a loud “eww”, blocking out the memory of how much ‘want’ the sight had aroused in her.

Then the next year Ripper had appeared with the Band Candy incident. Buffy admitted to herself that she’d been angry with her mother for months after her discovery that Giles and her mom had made love (there was that term again) on the police car. Twice! Her mother’s memories of it, had been laid out before her by the spell - her mom had gloried in his touch and how he’d made her feel. Her mom! Buffy shivered and gnawed on the inside of her lip. How could they have done that? My God, Giles had boinked her mother. No, Ripper had boinked her mother. Giles was her Watcher. Ripper was a pig, she had decided. But it had been Ripper who had made her mother’s memories melt with passion. Who was who, Ripper? Giles? That was the same man. Even after the Band Candy wore off, despite her embarrassment, Joyce Summers remembered her hours with Ripper with a depth of passion Buffy found amazing.

Recently something in Buffy had wakened. What wakened awakened needy and confused.

She needed to know. She really needed to know what sex was all about. The messages were so confusing. Hormones were confusing. These past couple of months hers seemed to spill out all over things, focusing her on the thing she had never done, had never wanted to do. Sex hadn’t been a big thing to the Slayer, until just a couple of weeks ago. She hadn’t wanted that intimacy. Her body had seemed to reject it. Now she wanted nothing more, except she hadn’t known with whom she wanted it. Now she did.

“Giles, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, Buffy. I’m your Watcher.”

“I need to know about sex.”

“B – b – buffy?” Giles teacup hit the tray and the remaining liquid splattered on both of them. “Oh dear lord . . . sorry . . .” he grabbed a napkin and began to dab at the tea that stained her shirt. Her breast moved softly under his hand, feeling unconfined, as though she wore no bra. Her nipples formed tight little buds thrusting out against the cotton of her shirt. Suddenly Giles body was back in the state that Verparosa’s writing had brought it to earlier.

“Oh my God,” he mumbled and dropped the napkin into his lap, staring at the floor and blushing furiously.

“Hey, Giles, it’s okay.” She touched his face and forced him to look up at her. “It’s okay. You can touch me.”

He blushed again and shivered at her words. Then he drew a deep breath and steadied himself, pulling the rags of professionalism and dignity around him. “You said you wanted to know about sex. W. . w. . what do you mean by that?” he asked, forcing the words out over his mortification.

Her gaze dropped to her hands, which twisted in her lap. “I’ve been hearing the guys at the frat house talk about their sexual experiences and they disgust me. Now Riley . . .”

“Is pressuring you?”

Buffy nodded. “It sounds so awful.”

Something clicked in the Watcher’s awareness. The Book had arrived! Now this? Oh dear Lord! He reached out and cupped his Slayer’s chin, raising her face so that he could look into her eyes. “Buffy, my dear . . . have you never . . . uhm . . . that is . . . I’d thought you and Angel . . . “

She shook her head. “Nuh . . . no. We never. . . uhm . . . no one.” She took a deep breath. “I’m a virgin,” she whispered, blushing a bright scarlet and bursting into tears.

Giles made a psychological grab at the skyrocketing elation that erupted from his guts. He missed. He experienced a sensation of emotional and spiritual clicks, as pieces fell into place like tumblers on a lock being prepared to open. He bent over and kissed her forehead. “Oh, Buffy, that is nothing to be ashamed of.” He pulled her against his chest, holding her comfortingly.

“I’m not as .. . . ashamed,” she sobbed. “I just need to not be a virgin any more. I need to know. My body has been de . . . demanding this for a couple of weeks now and I think Riley senses it,” she shivered, “but I don’t want it to be Riley. I don’t want to give him that piece of me.”

Giles swallowed. He knew where this was leading. The relationship between the sobbing Slayer in his arms and sudden arrival of the book byVerparosa no longer remained a mystery. But who had sent it to him? He coursed through his memory. Sullivan? The return address on the package appeared in his mind. Yes. Sullivan. Sullivan’s best friend and lover, the Scots lass . . . ah, yes . . . Fiona McLeod was one of the Council’s most powerful Seers.

Traitorous warmth crept into his body. His Slayer held him tightly, her face turned up to him. “I need for you to do this for me, Giles. I trust you. Show me what it’s all about. It can’t be what the guys say. I don’t want to be Lisa. Please. Show me.”

“B . . . b. . . buffy. You should surrender your virginity for love, my dear.”

The Slayer shook her head and pressed closer to him. “It is a sort of love,” she said. “I do love you, Giles.”

“Like a parent,” he responded.

“No, not a parent,” she answered, “or I wouldn’t be asking this. I don’t want to make love with my parent. You’re my best friend. You are the one special man who is always there for me, the one person in the world who knows me completely and who accepts me unconditionally. If you can find it in your heart to do this for me, I would be so grateful. I would really like you to be my first, Watcher Mine,” she whispered, reaching up and kissing his cheek. “Please.”

He looked at her, her face, her lovely elfin face. She’d grown from a pixie of a child to a glorious woman. He’d recently begun to realize he loved her, as a man loves a woman, never dreaming this might happen. He could feel her fear and revulsion and her confusion at what she had heard from Riley and his friends. The Slayer’s life is filled with violence. Not gentleness. And that was what she was asking for, needing. Gentleness. To experience lovemaking, gentle lovemaking. Not something the young men of the Initiative could provide for her.

Spike, needing funds, had become the Watcher’s spy and had been providing him much information about that the strange things going down around town and the organization causing them -- information garnered from its victims and almost victims. Giles knew much about Riley and his friends, information he had eschewed sharing with Buffy because of her romantic involvement with Riley. The young men of the “frat,” the Initiative, lived in a world of quick controlled violence, high-tech weaponry, and death. Some rumors of experimental drugs, steroids and strength-enhancing hormones being added to the food they ate at the frat house had reached Giles. And judging by Riley’s development and strength, Giles had no reason to doubt they were being fed the rumoured drugs. Lord, no wonder their focus was on sex and on the crude. The group of them was probably testosterone toxic.

“What has happened, my dear?” he asked her.

Buffy scrubbed at her nose, wiping away several tears that rolled down her cheek. “I found Lisa in the schoolyard tonight waiting for a vamp to kill her, after I heard Frank telling Riley about fucking her.” Her face screwed up at the coarse word but she hadn’t even seemed to try to find another word to describe the act. This told Giles a lot. “I took her to the Infirmary on campus. She looked like she had been in a fight.”

“Perhaps she had,” he observed his heart aching for the pitiable Lisa.

“Yes . . .” Buffy’s voice strangled on a sob. “Something I suddenly need so much can’t be that way . . . Giles, help me . . . “ She grabbed him convulsively.

He held her, letting her cry it out, allowing himself to choose a path he never thought he would walk, one of consort to his Slayer in an initiatory capacity. (Intellectualize your lust for her why don’t you, commented his conscience.) But it wasn’t lust, his reasonable self asserted. He felt desire . . . and love.

Buffy deserved more than a roll in the hay with a hyped up Lothario, he told himself. She had chosen to not sleep with the Angel of Death. Sleeping with Riley would almost be the same. The Initiative’s treatment turned these young men into killing machines and deadened any humanity or sweetness they might have once had.

Buffy’s initiation into the sexual mysteries should be loving and sweet. This was something Giles could do for her, could give her. Apparently in second century Rome it had been the purview of the Watcher to so initiate his Slayer. Giles could and would make her first time tender and beautiful. He could give her his love, even if he never acknowledged that was what it was. He was not going to fight the needs of his soul and what seemed to be her bodily needs. THE BOOK OF DOOM had just named his doom. He would make love to his Slayer, giving her his heart and his soul, showing her what she should demand from any man who shared her life and her bed and then he would watch her walk away to seek that man. That was his Doom.

“Please, help me Giles.”

“Yes, Buffy,” he responded.

Buffy soaked in warm water in a gorgeous bathroom, its view over-looking the Pacific surf, its tub shell-shaped and its water redolent with bath salts – lavender, chamomile and sandalwood scented her bath and the air. She held a huge sea sponge and scrubbed every toe, every inch of skin on her body. Almost like a ritual bath, she thought, herbs and water and candlelight.

The evening before Giles had promised her that he would relieve her of the burden of her virginity. He expressed his amazement that she’d view being virgin as a burden. She giggled, remembering the expression on the face of her so proper, British Watcher and wondering what it would be like to be touched intimately by him. Buffy was anticipating getting to know Giles in a whole new way, and her body reported it was definitely enthused. A gentle heat had slowly built over the past twenty-four hours.

She’d wanted to pursue her desire right then, right when she’d told him, but then he explained to her how honored he was that she chose him to gift with this treasure and that he wanted to make love to her, and that love-making wasn’t jumping on each other. He wanted her experience to be special. He told her to pack a suitcase and he arranged for her to meet him at five the next day, Friday evening, after her classes finished.

She’d been drifting all day in school. Riley had tried to get her to commit to a date. She’d chased him away with words about a Watcher/Slayer commitment--which wasn’t an untruth. She’d told Willow the same thing, that she had some Watcher-Slayery stuff to do with Giles. Willow had cocked her head and given Buffy a strange look. “It must be something very big,” she’d commented. “You’ve been worthless-girl all day.” Buffy had stood by the curb, clutching her backpack and watched Willow wander off, her face wearing a knowing smirk.

That had been four hours ago. They had stolen away from Sunnydale in a silver BMW. Giles had rented. He drove along the Coast Highway until they reached a bed and breakfast set along the highlands just away from the water. It overlooked a small bay. Giles had booked a small suite for two days. And that is how Buffy found herself in the huge tub.

Giles had showered immediately after their arrival and gone out to bring back several large bags, one of them containing the bath salts. Some of the contents he had stored in the refrigerator, some in the cabinet, and some by the bedside in nightstand drawers. Then he’d brought dinner up from the kitchen. Buffy dined on lobster and flavored rice and a glass of white wine.

She stood, water cascading down her legs, stepped to the bathmat and reached for the fluffy terry robe he’d placed by the sink on the heated towel rack. It wrapped warmth around her. She sighed. Little fluttery things tumbled around in her tummy. She was going to do this. Have sex with Giles. She drew the robe closed and tied the waist.

When she opened the door to the bedroom, lights were all out and candles in votive holders winked on several flat surfaces. The door to the living room was open and more candles cast a soft illumination there. She could see Giles sitting out on the couch wearing a robe and soft pajama bottoms and drinking tea. She slipped her scuffs on her feet and slowly walked out toward him.

“Uhmm, you smell so sweet,” he told her, raising his head from a book to look at her. He patted the couch beside him. “Come, sit with me for a while.”

She sank down beside him, her stomach still fluttering. Her trembling hand clutched at the neck of her robe, pinching the opening closed.

“If you’ve changed your mind Buffy, I understand,” Giles said, with a gentle smile.

“No . . .” she drew a deep breath. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.” She gazed up into his gentle green eyes. “I’m scared, Giles, but I really think I want you.”

Rupert Giles felt his heart turn over at her words. He knew she didn’t understand what she had said. What her words did to him was incredible. He reached out gently and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “May I kiss you, Buffy?” he asked, his voice a whisper on the still air.

“Please,” she murmured. “I’d like that.”

He drew her toward him, cupping her cheeks in his palms. He watched her eyes flutter as his lips drew closer to hers. Then they touched. He felt Buffy’s mouth soften beneath his lips, surrendering to his touch. She tasted of toothpaste and mouthwash and an indefinable something sensual and hot. It drew him. He kept his kiss light, gentle, letting the tip of his tongue peep out to steal a taste of her, slip along the cleft of her lips, lick the edges of her teeth. She shivered. Her hands slid up his chest, slipping around his neck. One aggressively cupped the ridge of his skull and pulled his mouth against hers. Her tongue suddenly chased his, sliding along it as it skated along her teeth and dipped into her mouth. Buffy moaned. Heat flooded his groin. Buffy shivered in response to his kiss. This was going to be more difficult than Giles had thought. His body clamored for her touch.

Gently, he reminded himself. This is her first time. Her mouth opened under his again, an invitation. Giles tongue slipped past her teeth and Buffy’s danced out to greet it. And then she was nipping it and suckling on his lower lip.

“Your mouth is a sex crime, Giles,” she murmured against his lips and it was Giles turn to groan as his Slayer nibbled her way around his mouth and slid her lips along the ridge of his jaw. “Give me more of it please.”

The Watcher pulled his Slayer into his lap, kissing her again, feeding his need with tender kisses along her jaw, down her neck and along her clavicle. Buffy squirmed. Giles’s already heated body responded. He could feel himself growing, hardening quickly beneath her wiggling bottom.

“Shuusssh.” He touched her gently. He kissed his way down her neck toward the v of her robe. He moved slowly, not knowing what her response would be. He had no idea of how far she had gone before, how much kissing and touching. But as his lips traveled down her neck and toward her chest, she sighed and relaxed back into his arms. Giles smiled as his mouth caressed the barest hint of her curving breast. At the touch, Buffy sighed again and moaned. He pushed the robe aside, exposing the swell of her right breast. She turned toward him, granting him greater access. His mouth skimmed along her skin, nipping and nibbling, eliciting a whispery moan. No shy flower, his Slayer.

“Please, Giles,” she sighed.

He slid the robe back, exposing her whole breast to his hungry gaze. Her nipple had drawn up into a tight little pink nub, enticing his teeth and lips for caresses. He slipped his tongue under the curve of her breast and dragged it along her flesh until it contacted her erect nipple. Under her bottom, his penis continued its swelling, rivaling the tightness of her nipple. Buffy shivered as the tip of his tongue lapped at her. “More,” she whimpered, sounding frantic. Giles drew her breast into his mouth, suckling. “Oh, God Giles, yes!”

She twisted, flinging her body around until her legs spread wide over his lap and she could lean toward him, bringing her breast fully to his mouth. She slid forward until her groin pressed fully against Giles rigid penis.

She jumped. “Oh!” She pulled away from him, her eyes wide, staring at him. He stilled, not moving. A strange look skittered across her features, her look becoming hazy and sensual. “You really do want me,” she said softly and smiled a lazy, sexual smile. She shrugged off the top of her robe, allowing it to pool about her hips, exposing both breasts to his passionate gaze. Then her hand began to trail over his chest. It moved downward, pausing to find his tight nipples under his robe and then delving into the waist of his pajamas.

His Slayer was not shy, he decided, glorying in her curiosity and her touch. Her fingers tangled in the soft hair on his belly and she moved forward to press herself against his extremely enthusiastic erection. Through the fabric at his groin, he felt his tip contact the swollen nub of her clitoris and she moved against it, and then slid forward, forcing his shaft up tight against his belly. “Uhm . . .” she sighed, and then moved again, rubbing against him. “Yes!”

She rocked, and took his hands, moving them toward her breasts. He pinched her puckered nipples and leaned over to kiss her lips. “Take what you need, Buffy,” he told her, shifting to contact her better.

She groaned, her hips moving quickly, driving against him in tight sharp thrusts. He felt his own orgasm rise and tried to stop her, but she was too far gone. “Giles . . oh . . God . . Please! . . do it! . . Giles!” she cried, bucking against his throbbing penis. He felt her body tense and then spasm hugely as her orgasm ripped through her. He drew her tightly against him, kissing her wildly, and spilled himself against her as she came.

With a soft cry, she fell against his chest continuing to rock softly against him. He let his head fall back against the couch behind him. The wet spot between them grew cool. She trembled rhythmically. Giles realized she was crying.

He raised his head and touched her. “Buffy?”

“I spoiled it,” she sobbed. “I wanted you to make love to me. Now . . . “

“I will,” he whispered against her hair.

“But I . . . “

“Took the edge off things and gave us both some control,” he told her.

“But you . . .”

“Will catch my breath and then get back to your delectable body,” he whispered against her hair and nibbled his way down her neck. He took her hand and slid it down his waist, waiting to see what her reaction would be to touch deliberately the wet evidence of their mutual release on his belly. She sighed again, wiping her eyes on his robe and looked up at him curiously. “I want to touch you,” she told him.

He let loose of her hand and waited. This was not a fairy-tale virgin, he reminded himself. Buffy lacked experience, but she had a great deal of information, and she probably had necked and petted with Angel and Riley. She had been touched and had touched, just not been penetrated. So he watched her fingers moved downward, scratching at the soft hair on his belly and rubbing at the wet splotches of semen that lurked among the hairs. The she tugged on the roughened hair at his groin where his penis nested. It stirred, thickening again at her touch.

She moved back and slid off his lap. “Take off your robe.”

He glanced at her. Surprise registering in his look. She slid to the floor in front of him. The light from the several candles throwing a golden halo around her head, making her look angelic. But her look at him was devilish. “I want you naked,” she purred. “I really really want to touch you.” She untied the waist of her robe and it fell from her body. Giles suddenly found breathing to be difficult. “Now,” she reached for the waist of his pajamas. “Lift.” He did. She tugged the bottoms off him and he dropped his robe to the couch. Their clothing littered the floor. His Slayer knelt on the floor in front him staring at his body.

She reached over and stroked the hair on his chest, following it down as it arrowed towards his groin. His penis poked out, already half erect again, or had it ever fully softened? He didn’t know. His arousal ran constant. Buffy reached out her hand and stroked him. He groaned. She pulled back and looked at his face.

Giles shifted and took her hand, placing it back on his now burgeoning erection. “Touch me,” he told her. Her fingers curved around his thickening penis and tentatively stroked him. Giles covered her hand with his, moving it in a rhythm he liked. She smiled and reached her free hand to scrape at his nipples, giggling as he moaned and his hips bucked into her hand.

“You like?” she asked him.

“God, I like,” he gasped. In her hands he was ragingly hard again and glad that the shadows of flickering candlelight softened the impact of his size. He moved and drew her up to kiss her again. But she kept her grip on his penis, touching, rubbing and fondling him. She seemed fascinated with the silky tight skin of his glans, her fingertips running over it, stroking along the flared edge and then trailing down his thick shaft to nudge at his testicles. “Oh, Christ,” he muttered against her mouth, “I love what you’re doing.” She cupped his testicles, tugging at them and rolling them in her palm. “Buffy!” he yelped.

She dropped him, looking at him, her eyes bewildered. “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, luv,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. It felt so wonderful, what you were doing. Please do it again. I was simply surprised. It makes me want you so much when you touch me like that.”

Her hand crept back to his groin and stroked his erection firmly. “I like how big and hard you are,” she told him.

His penis quivered in her hand. His hands slipped down her shoulders and his mouth sought her breasts again, nibbling at the tight buds of her nipples. His fingers trailed down her belly, seeking the golden curls at the apex of her thighs. They slid through the slick damp, slipping between her lips. The hard nub of her clitoris bumped against his thumb. Giles stroked it and Buffy squeezed the portion of him she held. “Bloody hell,” he groaned.

“Don’t stop, Giles,” she whimpered. She skated along the edge of another orgasm, he realized. He bent down and kissed her, pressing his thumb against her clitoris, rhythmically pushing and stroking. Buffy arched against him, crying out his name. As she pushed against his hand, giving him her orgasm, Giles finger slid into her vagina, seeking to ascertain her readiness and test the state of her hymen. He found it, a taut membrane blocking his penetration. He pushed against it with his finger. It stretched, giving a bit.

“Oh Giles,” she moaned, relaxing for a moment. Giles picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, arranging her on the bed with her legs open. Then he climbed up on the mattress with her, bending over her. He licked his way down her body until he reached her curls again. His tongue stroked along the lips guarding her clitoris. Buffy jerked and then smiled down at him as he parted her and dragged his tongue over her nub. “Oh yeah! More,” she whimpered. He nibbled and licked and sucked at her, bringing her barreling toward another release while his free hand slid two fingers into her swollen vagina. As her orgasm seized her Giles thrust his fingers against her hymen, whispering that release spell he had contemplated earlier while reading Amorosa’s recommendations for deflowering a virgin. His Virgin-Slayer would not feel the pain of his penetration in any way. At the height of her pleasure her hymen melted before his probing fingers and she yelped as they slid into her, seating themselves fully inside her body. As she came down, he withdrew his hand, wiping his fingers clean with his tongue.

He moved over her and laid himself between her legs, his erection nudging at her entrance. “I want to be inside you,” he whispered against her lips.

He slid his tip in and then paused, watching her face. She smiled sensuously at him. “I know what you did,” she told him. “I felt the magic, felt your spell. You made it feel good.” She moved, turning him onto his back. “Will you sit up?” she asked him.

He complied, moving the pillows and leaning against the headboard of their bed. “Spread your legs wide,” she ordered. He did as she asked. She slipped a pillow between his thighs and climbed onto him, her legs curving around his hips.

He caught her. “This is not a good idea, luv. This is your first time and even though you won’t tear, you’re still very tight.” he told her. “In this position I’ll penetrate you very deeply.”

“I want that,” she told him, looking at him archly. “I’m counting on Slayer adaptability there.” She reached for a condom and rolled it over his erection. “I want to know how deeply you can touch me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, luv,” he whispered. “I’m not a small man.”

“I want all of you in me. I’ll get that this way.” She raised herself up and Giles felt himself slide into a welcoming channel, quivering and hot around him as she lowered her body onto his penis. He felt her body press against his belly and his balls. “Oh God,” she groaned. “You feel so good, fill me up.”

He drew her to him and mouthed her name against her breasts, suckling her nipples and kissing every part of her he could reach. “Buffy, luv, Buffy. Oh, dear lord, . . . “ his hips responded to her rhythm.

She moved against him, riding him, her motion driving him, taking them both into a well-spring of wild sensation and heat. And then breathless ecstasy.

Willow, of course, had guessed immediately Sunday afternoon when they returned. “You . . . you had sex this weekend,” she stuttered. “With Giles? Oh Buffy.”

It hadn’t taken much convincing to make Willow realize that Giles was the perfect person to take her virginity. Willow’s story that she had told Buffy years ago about Oz taking hers, gentle though the werewolf had been, had made Buffy cringe the morning Willow had told her that It had happened.

Now Willow said: “he did what?”

“I think he magicked it away, you know, my hymnen.”

“Hymen,” the Witch corrected automatically, “you didn’t bleed?”

“No,” said the Slayer. “He said I bled my ritual blood the first time I got injured as the Slayer. He said he didn’t think I needed to bleed again.”

Willow chewed on that for a while. Then she looked closely at Buffy. “You did more than just t . . t. . take your . . . you . . . uhm.” She glared. “Buffy!”

“All weekend, Willow,” Buffy sighed. “He’s incredible.” She dropped her suitcase on the floor by her bed and fell onto it. “He showed me this book, called it “the Book of Doom.” Apparently Watchers used to initiate their Slayers into the Dionysian Mysteries, back in the Roman times. Giles said he can’t figure out why we seem to be re-enacting this in modern times. Why I was still a virgin and chose him to take my virginity. He is going to research that this week.”

“Is that all this is to him, a clinical exercise? See Slayer. Slayer needs Initiation. Initiate Slayer . . . “ Willow grumbled from the shadows of the other bed.

“Oh no, Willow. We talked about it. It was important that we talked about it. We have to maintain our Watcher/Slayer relationship. He says he knows I’ll find a young man to love me, even if it isn’t Riley.”

“And, it isn’t Riley?” asked Willow.

“NO! Not now when I know what Riley and his friends can’t give me.”

“I’m glad you finally noticed that,” muttered the Witch.

“I broke up with Riley, sort of, on Friday, before I left with Giles. Told him no, I wouldn’t go out with him. He said if I wanted to be his girlfriend I had to go out with him Friday night. I said, nope, not happening. Goodbye.”

“Sounds like you broke up to me.” Willow wiggled on the bed and smiled at Buffy. “So, do I get details, best friend info?”

Buffy smiled back. “Yeah. It was incredible. Now I know what all the romance novels are trying to tell us. Giles was wonderful. I’m glad I asked him to be my lover. He was so gentle and sweet and he took care of me and anything I asked him . . . “ Her eyes glazed over and got dreamy. Willow watched as a look of intense adoration spread over the Slayer’s face.

“Did he say he loved you?” asked the Witch.

“That wasn’t what this was all about, Willow. I asked him to relieve me of my virginity, not to make an undying declaration of love,” the Slayer snapped back from wherever her memories had taken her. “I didn’t ask him for love, Willow. I asked him to make love to me.”

Willow stared at Buffy for a moment, wondering how someone so bright could be so dense. “Uhn . . . . Buff,” she said, plucking at a nubbin on her bedspread, “for Giles . . . I really don’t think he could do that . . . uh . . . make love to you if he weren’t in love with you.”

Willow’s statement had thrown Buffy into a crisis. One that she refused to share with anyone. It had pained her to walk away from Giles that Sunday afternoon. She felt like she was cutting off a piece of her heart, part of her soul. She had given Giles something so intimate, so personal and he had taken it tenderly and gently. Somewhere in that weekend, in the maelstrom of desire and need and during that lovemaking, she’d figured out, when Giles had taken her body for the very first time, he had also taken her heart. She loved him. And, were she honest with herself, she had been falling in love with him for a very long time. Her love had grown and changed as she had grown and changed. And now, she had offered herself as Beloved and he had taken her as Lover. But he had said nothing about Love.

But he couldn’t have made love to you like that unless he loved you, a small voice within her assured her. Willow is right. But Doubt, the sin she had lived with all her life, argued: “why didn’t he say so?”

Buffy wept. And wept some more. And then decided that all she could do was wait and see what happened now. If Giles loved her, he would have to tell her.

Rupert Giles threw his suitcase in the door of his condo. He threw on shorts and a tee shirt and dashed out the door to go run it off. It had happened. What he feared had happened. He was finally and irrevocably in love with his Slayer. He couldn’t think. He felt anorexic. All he wanted to do was call back the two days he had just spent making love to her and tell her. Tell her. I love you. I didn’t mean for this to happen, but it has. I’ve fallen madly in love with you, Buffy. I don’t think you’ll ever love me, but you must know how I feel. If my actions become a bit strange about you occasionally, this is why. Because I love you and I don’t know how I can spend the rest of my life without you. He ran until the sun set and the night shadows crept out of the graveyards . . . and then he fought the rising vampires, each one he slayed was one less his beloved had to slay.

Buffy took up calling Giles after patrol from the payphone in the dorm lobby. She couldn’t face him. If she had seen him she would have blubbed and fallen apart into tiny pieces. Crying and sobbing out the truth to him. I’m sorry, I fell in love with you. I didn’t mean to. I know you don’t love me but I . . .

Willow caught her one night crying in her bed, obviously home too early to have stopped at Giles. “Don’t you think you owe him more than this,” she growled at the Slayer. Buffy dipped her head and winced.

“Will, I can’t.”

“Buffy, he gave you all of himself. He gave you the most intimate part of himself. That must have been hard . . .uhm, I mean . . . ah . . . difficult, yes .. . difficult for Giles.”

Buffy smiled faintly at the witch’s awkward phrasing. “And I owe him more than a phone call. Is that what you are trying to tell me? I should go see him?”

“Yes.” Willow put on her resolve face. “Go. Now.” She barked.

The Slayer turned toward the door and marched out.

Once on the road pointing to Giles’s home, everything Buffy had done over the past couple of weeks slammed into her. She had run away. Refused to face the truth. Treated the man who had loved her so gently like an object. She was no better than Riley and his friends. She put on a burst of Slayer speed and careened up the steps and down into the patio in front of Giles apartment-

Just in time to run headlong into her Watcher. He caught her as they went over in an ungainly sprawl onto the flagstones.

“Ooof!” he groaned.

“Giles!” She threw her arms around him. “Oh, damn, Giles.”

He pulled himself up on his elbows and let his Slayers arms creep around him. “To what do I owe this sudden arrival?” he asked.

She squirmed, her chest having impacted his and her bum spread across his narrow hips. Then she raised her head and looked into his eyes. Those lovely green eyes, the left one with the amber splotch. On the surface of his expression she saw humor and his attempt to keep this light. Beneath that a sadness echoed in the green. And along with it a tenderness, a love that she had to be blind not to have seen before. Or had she been too busy trying to hide what she really felt to see.

Buffy pulled herself up and shifted so that she could pull her Watcher into a sitting position as well. Her hips slipped backward, falling into the cup of his groin and thighs. And she felt it, the part of his love that he couldn’t hide with her seated like this. His body strained towards hers.

She looked up into his eyes again and saw his embarrassment. Her hands crept up to touch his mouth. “It is a sex crime, you know, your mouth.”

The red tide continued its flood over his features but he looked at her, confused.

“It sold me into slavery,” she murmured, staring at the cut of his lips.

“B . . b . . Buffy?” he twisted slightly beneath her. Her hips followed his, starved to keep touching the feeling of his body wanting her body.

She stared into his eyes, hers tearing up with the regret of the past weeks. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Giles. I didn’t know what to do. See, I fell for you, love, the whole thing . . . and I didn’t think you felt that way about me. But I’m here, begging . . . if I’m a good little love slave, can I –“

His mouth swooped down on hers and his hands settled on her hips, pulling her down against his now more than obvious erection. “I love you . . . love you . . . love you . . . “ he murmured against her lips. “Couldn’t stand it with you gone. Buffy . . . “

“Me too,” she breathed, “hated the being gone. Must have the being here, the having you.” She kissed her way along his jaw and then stopped and looked up at him. “Do I have you, Giles?”

“In about ten seconds you’ll have me taking you right here on the patio. I suggest we remove ourselves to some privacy.” She stood and he rose with her. She ran her hand down his belly to the bulge in his sweats. “Hmmm, pretty impressive, Mr. Giles. I’d say you missed me.”

“If you’d just open the door, Ms. Summers, I’d be delighted to show you how much.”

-beginning-