Thank you all for your kind attention today.
Title: 10. Candle Wax
Disclaimers: Buffy & Co. belong to Joss Whedon, Kazui, Fox, etc.
Spoilers: Season Six
Distribution/Archive: Ask first.
Summary: For the Smut_69.
Thanks to gileswench and rumidha for the betas.
The scent that filled the air was honeysuckle, mixed with her musk and his sweat. The taper candle was nowhere as tall now as it had been when he had first lit it, turning in the gloom to face her. She had been lying across his bed when he turned, the flickering flame illuminating her gloriously nude form as she stretched out, baring herself for his appreciation. In that moment he wanted to devour her, to take her into himself and never release her.
The night was surprisingly still, almost unnaturally so after the howling windstorm that had knocked out power to the entire city. The bedroom windows stood open, but the single candle flame stood almost straight up in the unmoving air. Wax began to pool at the base of the wick as it burned.
He had moved toward her in that golden light, silently rejoicing at the sleek, tanned lines of her body sprawled across his cream-colored bedspread. Her hair, a darker shade of gold than he was accustomed to, fanned out around her face as she smiled up at him, raising one perfectly rounded arm in invitation.
He had come to her, a starving animal, desperate for the taste and feel of her. His cock stood out before him, unbelievably hard, the head deep purple and weeping slightly with his desire. But her needs came first; let it never be said that Rupert Giles was an inconsiderate lover. He started at her feet, laying gentle kisses along her skin, slowly rising toward her knees.
He investigated the hollow behind her knees. She shuddered when he drew his tongue along the sensitive skin, and the scent of her own need filled the air around him. He could hold back no longer. Nudging her thighs apart with gentle but insistent hands, he brought his mouth down on the place where her desire flowed so freely.
Wax began to drip down the side of the candle as her breathing grew harsh, desperate. Her head was flung back, her beautiful neck exposed, and her mouth was open, tiny whimpers escaping as she tried to be quiet for the sake of the neighbors and failed. She tasted like heaven on his tongue, like perfection, the sweet manumission of all the chains in his life suddenly breaking away, leaving him free to simply be who he was and what he was: the man who loved her.
When his tongue pushed up into her, she cried out and her body shuddered hard, her secret muscles fluttering rhythmically under his lips and around his tongue. He gripped her hips and kept going, didn’t stop, so that as her first wave of pleasure began to ebb, the second began to crest. The second time her body clenched, she screamed. The third time, she moaned piteously. As he finally raised up over her, his own need desperate and his urgent cock gripped in his hand, she raised her arms again to him and sobbed with pleasure and desire.
Sliding into her was like nothing he had ever experienced before. She was hot around him, hotter than any other woman he’d ever been with, and as slick as though she’d been coated in warmed oil. Her body welcomed him in, pulling him down to drown in her. Her nails dug into the skin of his back, the pain a sharply sweet counterpoint to the incredible pleasure, and he leaned down to nip at her exposed neck, making her buck and mewl beneath him.
The preliminaries now past, he bowed his head to hers and settled to his work, softly grunting with both effort and joy as he found his rhythm and began to work it, sliding in and out of her. Her legs slid along his as she moved with him, their skin coming together with sweaty slaps, the springs of the mattress creaking, and the occasional harder thrust knocking the headboard against the wall with a dull thud. She was chanting his name softly, her mouth next to his ear, telling him all the filthy things he loved to hear about how good he felt when he was buried balls-deep inside her and how much she wanted to come for him, and even more how much she wanted him to come inside her, to feel him fill her with his pleasure and his seed.
Her words worked magic on him and he went wild, his movements becoming stronger so that each thrust now smacked the headboard against the wall. The pleasure built between the two of them and her words gradually became incoherent cries, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her hips rising to his, her desperation evident in every move she made. Then he wrapped his own arms around her, rolling carefully until she was on top, riding him desperately.
His hands gripped at her hips as she sat up, and they both groaned as he sunk even deeper into her. His left hand moved, sliding, seeking that sensitive bud of flesh that was the center of her pleasure. His fingers caressed her folds, stroking and pinching around the thrusts of his cock, building and building the tension in her body, until suddenly and finally he found her clitoris and stroked it once, twice, three times, and then pinched it hard.
She screamed his name as she convulsed around him and her body clamped down on his cock so hard that he could not thrust through her orgasm. She sagged forward, boneless, and he gripped her hips. Pushing in one last time, he fell over the edge of his pleasure. “Buffy,” he breathed into her ear, and felt himself begin to let go into her in huge spurts of pleasure, his seed filling her with his essence and his love.
In the aftermath, they lay together, her head pillowed on his shoulder, and they slept and woke and made love again and slept again. And shortly before daybreak, as they slept once more, the candle flame guttered in its pool of wax and went out.