Prompt: continuation of "Please", requested by secondalto
Word count: 470
Notes: In the universe of Tradition & Protocol, which means dom/sub, piercing, tattooing, and a bit of bondage. Though this one is pretty mild.
Giles signed the credit card slip and returned his wallet to his pocket. Buffy's face was alight with promise, and he was nearly breathless with anticipation of what would happen when they got home. They'd both been busy the last few days, with no time to play, in any sense. He stood, and went around to hold her chair for her. He slipped on his jacket.
"Hands behind your back," she murmured to him. "Grab your right wrist. Pretend I've got you tied up."
He put his hands behind his back, and at that moment ceded all control to her. He bit his lip to contain a moan. He followed her out of the restaurant. All his awareness was drawn down to his cock, heavy and awkward and sensitive, in loose trousers that did nothing to disguise his arousal. But that wasn't his problem to worry about. And nobody ever noticed.
Buffy opened the Citroen's passenger door and held it. He got in a little awkwardly, hands still behind his back. She got into the driver's seat and started the car. Buffy fastened his seatbelt for him and let her hands linger on his thighs. She slowly stroked a hand over him, between his legs. He thrust himself up against her. She liked him wanton, vocal, and writhing, and he was happy to oblige.
"Want me to tie your hands with your braces?"
"N-not until we get home. Too dangerous. Oh, god, Buffy."
She gave him one last hard squeeze and released him. She drove them up to his little house in the Sunnydale hills, through winding streets. Every traffic light and stop sign was an opportunity for her to tease him further, and she took full advantage. Giles was breathing hard and sweating when she pulled into their driveway. Though some of that was his usual reaction to her driving.
She opened his door and unlatched his seatbelt. Giles stood awkwardly, wrists still crossed behind his back. She made as if to close the door behind him, the stopped. She tilted her head.
"What is it?"
Buffy held a finger to her lips and closed her eyes for a moment. Giles felt her slipping into a state of alert. He took his hands from behind his back. He rolled his shoulders to loosen himself up. Buffy was already in motion, heading toward Xander's cottage.
Giles followed, and caught up to her as she flattened herself against the wall below a window. He slipped a stake from his jacket pocket, but she shook her head. "Demon," she mouthed. Giles nodded and put it back. Damn this monkey suit! It didn't have his usual range of armament. He'd grown used to the boots with their knife sheaths.
Buffy leapt, and smashed in through Xander's window, feet-first. Giles followed.
It's time to revive the fiction tag game. People who wish to abuse me for not having written their earlier prompts are entirely within their rights, and I will make an embarrassed gesture in response.
How it works:
You win the next ficlet if you're the first person to leave a comment on the previous tag-fic. You give me a short Giles-related prompt. I write something in response to it. Sometimes you get a ficlet. Sometimes you get a novella. It hasn't happened yet, but you might get a drabble. Eventually. (Sometimes I take breaks to write other stories.)
The prompt must involve Rupert Giles, the Buffy character, somehow.
What's fair game:
Crossovers with Doctor Who and Sherlock Holmes. You can try me on crossovers with other things.
Continuations of previous tagfic.
Disconnected things in the universes of existing storylines.
Not fair game:
Tradition & Protocol. Reconnection. Blackmail. For other WIPs, go ahead and ask!