TITLE: More than a kiss
AUTHOR: JK Philips
RATING: NC17
DISTRIBUTION: Not sure what all sites are out there, but if you want it, you can have it. Just please email me your URL, so I know where my story is going. And of course, give proper credit.
SUMMARY: What was edited out of Tabla Rasa. ;)
SPOILERS: Everything up to “Tabla Rasa”
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters; they are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy & Fox. I simply am doing this for fun, and non-profit use.
EMAIL:
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Okay, this is my first and probably only PWP, so be kind.WEBSITE: www.jkphilips.com
--------------------------------------------------- “Don’t leave me.” “Oh, Anya.” He didn’t really intend to kiss her. He meant only to wrap his arms around her and offer her some consolation. She looked so lost, and he felt so guilty. He didn’t know the circumstances of his desertion or any of the details of their relationship really, but he felt responsible for the hurt in her eyes right now. So for right now he would try to make it better. Somehow he was looking at her lips when he pulled her in close. He was wondering if they were soft, if they were warm and wet or if that was just the lip gloss, and how many times he had touched them but now forgotten. She was staring at him in the same way, and so it seemed only natural that their lips touched as his arms slipped around her. The first touch sent electricity coursing through his body, and so what was begun unintentionally, he now finished ardently. He bent her backwards, kissing deeply, tasting her cherry lip gloss and feeling the muscles of her back tense beneath his hands as she tried to press herself closer to him, tried to meld their bodies together. Part of his mind warned him that kissing while experiencing profound amnesia was probably not a sensible idea. The greater part of his mind told that part to shut the hell up and then beat it back into a dark cubbyhole where it could be locked away and not heard from again. She moaned against his mouth, and that only encouraged his wayward hands in their exploration of her backside, sliding down to the tight curves of her ass. Her tongue grazed along his lips, and he allowed her entrance, swallowing her whole. They nearly toppled over when she tried to wrap one leg around his waist. He saw their dilemma, but there was a table only a few steps away. Without breaking their embrace, they stumbled over to it as one, and he laid her across the wood surface, even as she reached one hand back to sweep off all the books and trinkets. They pulled apart for air for a moment, giving her room to slide her arms down his chest and around his backside, pressing his groin closer to hers. His hands dug into her shoulders as he felt his erection rub against her. She gazed at him for a moment, breathing hard. “This probably isn’t a good idea.” “Probably not,” he agreed. They started desperately kissing again, his hands groping for her breasts, his lips moving from her mouth down to her neck. She gasped and ground into him as his fingers played with her nipples, erect through the flimsy dress and silk bra. Her arms came up around his neck, her hands stroking through his hair and encouraging his kisses along her neck. “But we are engaged,” she continued. “I suppose we do this a lot.” He stopped his attentions for a moment and studied the beautiful blonde in his arms. “Yes, I would imagine we do this quite a lot.” They started kissing again, their tongues fighting over which would be allowed though first. Their hands both met at his belt buckle, and he permitted her to unzip him, freeing his hands to stroke and caress and touch along her arms and throat and the soft golden locks of her hair. She wrapped her hands around his length, and he groaned, bucking into her touch. His hands slipped down to push her skirt up and trace a feather light path down her inner thigh to her... He stopped their kiss for a moment and arched one brow. “No panties?” She smiled wickedly. “I must be a bad girl.” “So it would seem.” He resumed his passionate kissing as his hand nudged her knee to the side. He slid inside her, and her arms tightened around his neck as he filled her. She smiled against his lips in approval, and he kissed her more deeply, pressing their bodies so tightly together that they could almost merge into one being. He had a sneaking suspicion on why he might be marrying this woman. If sex was always this good, then she might be forgiven some nagging and bopping on the head. They both closed their eyes as he thrust once... twice... Like a breeze that suddenly swirled around and over them, his memories washed over him in a wave. Rupert Giles was no longer just a name found on a wallet id, it was who he was, complete with all the memories of childhood torment that the name Rupert had collected and the memory of Buffy’s pain as he had told her he was leaving and the memory of the tears that had filled her eyes just as he now filled... His eyes snapped open at the same instant as Anya’s. Dear Lord. They broke the kiss with a look of sheer horror on both their faces. Their lips were slightly easier to disentangle than... other parts. He turned his back to her as soon as he was able, doing up his trousers as he caught her rearranging her skirt from the corner of his eye. “Y-yes, well...” he stammered. “This is place is very untidy,” she announced as she jumped off the table. “Yes, must... must put things back in their place.” He couldn’t face her, just made a desperate dash for the broom and started sweeping. He could hear the thunk thunk of books as she reshelved their magic fiasco. The clatter of trinkets picked up off the floor. He concentrated on sweeping up the glass on one side of the store, glass shattered during his duel with the skeleton. He tried to still the thoughts raging through his mind. Mostly there was shame, embarrassment. God, how could he ever look Xander in the eye again, knowing he had... with the man’s fiance no less? For the first time since coming to his decision, he was thankful to be going back to England. He was rather wishing he was on the plane right now. Why did every spell end with him... with women he would otherwise have no interest in? Those thoughts were infinitely better than the thoughts of Anya now spiraling through his skull: the smell of her perfume, the touch of her skin, the eagerness of her kiss. The fact that he still had a raging hard on helped very little in taming those thoughts. He looked at his watch. His plane left far too soon for any kind of detour to resolve his personal problem. And as much as it would make the plane trip easier to bear, he couldn’t bring himself to make a trip into the bathroom with Anya standing right there. He was simply too British for that. He would simply have to turn his mind away from thoughts of their coitus interruptus and onto other things less arousing. He was having little success. It’s Anya. *Anya*, he kept reminding himself. He dared a glance in her direction. She was cleaning the tabletop with an enthusiasm that could take two layers of varnish off the surface. He focused on his sweeping once more. “Well this place certainly needs a good tidying.” “Oh yes, yes, yes.” Her breathy agreement sounded less like agreement and more like... Stop it. Focus. This is Anya. Anya who is engaged to Xander, who you would consider to be almost a son. So you were both under an amnesiac spell which was broken too late or too soon, depending on the perspective... No. Stop it, Rupert Giles. He leaned the broom against the wall and turned towards the register. He was going to call and see if there was an earlier flight. Like right now. But as he turned, Anya was turning also, moving in his direction to replace a book. They collided, the book falling. He didn’t know whose arms wrapped around whose first, but they were resuming their earlier activities in moments, kissing desperately as if to steal these last brief moments. They toppled back against the table, and her hands slipped down once more to the waistband of his pants. “If anyone finds out, we can say this happened before the spell broke,” she stated, even as her hands closed around his hardness. “Yes, before,” he murmured, knowing he should stop, but not wanting to. He closed his eyes as he slipped inside of her again. He tried to rationalize. She wasn’t married yet. She initiated, both times really. This was pure lust, two people working side by side day after day, building up years of tension as they argued, and now parting with one last... “Oh, God,” she cried. “You’re better than Xander!” He stopped her mouth with a well placed kiss. If he had known that it was that easy to shut Anya up, he would have tried it much sooner. They ground together in a frantic rhythm, desperate to finish this time, alert to the possibility of being caught in the act, and reeling with the sense of forbidden treasure. Anya’s fingers clutched at his back as she neared her climax, biting his lip as she came. The sudden pain startled him. He had never pegged her as a biter. Well, he had truly never given it a thought before. But then her legs were curling around his backside, driving him in deeper and driving out all other thoughts. He raised his head and bit his own already sore lip to keep from making a sound as he felt his own release come. He sank down on top of her, both of them catching their breath for a moment. Anya was the first to break the silence. “I think I just remembered. I’m Anya and you’re Giles. The spell must have worn off. We shouldn’t be doing this.” “Definitely not,” he agreed, slipping from inside her and repeating their earlier performance: he turned his back to her and did up his trousers as she rearranged her skirt. She jumped off the table, repeating her earlier protestations, “This is place is still far too untidy.” “M-must clean up,” he concurred, reaching for the broom. So the others found them that way only minutes later: Anya polishing the table and Giles sweeping the floor. “Freaky amnesia, huh?” Xander said. Tara brushed past them and out the front door. Anya made a beeline to her fiance and placed a kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t think that we were engaged.” He shrugged. “No big. I hit on Willow, remember? And you guys do have your names together on the shop papers. Pretty funny, though, you and Giles as a couple?” They all laughed, Anya and Giles somewhat sheepishly. “Yes, well,” Giles pulled his plane ticket from his jacket pocket, looking anywhere but at Xander. “I really must be going.” “Wait,” Xander protested. “You should wait for Buffy to get back. She’ll be really bummed if she doesn’t get to say goodbye.” “I fear there isn’t time.” Giles tried to escape out the shop door, but was headed off by Dawn and an enthusiastic goodbye hug. He very much feared that Xander might try the same thing or that he and Anya would be forced into an awkward embrace. But mercifully the others let him leave with no fuss. The door closed with finality. “Man,” Xander sighed. “That guy sure couldn’t get out of town fast enough.” ~Finis~ November 15, 2001
(and now dear readers, you see the real reason there was no goodbye between Buffy and Giles) Back Home Please, send me feedback, either by
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