TITLE: Casual Joys
RATING: NC17, for sex
SUMMARY: New Year's Eve. Giles has moved on from the events of Los Angeles, but the past has a way of sneaking up on him...
First part can be found here.
DISCLAIMER: The characters are Joss’, of course, and the chapter title comes from The Doors’ song, “I Can’t See Your Face in My Mind.”
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: New Year’s Eve, London. The Watcher’s Council planned to thwart a vampire attack they’d learned of, but a few hours before midnight, things are already going dreadfully wrong…
By the time Lydia reached the edge of the square, she felt like she was going to jump out of her skin if one more person brushed up against her. The heat from so many bodies was surprising, and it left her perspiring beneath her heavy coat, clammy and uncomfortable as she hurried along. Desperate for the wind’s icy fingers to reach in and cool her, she unbuttoned her jacket to let it flap open, continuing onward, past the tourists and revelers and the couples kissing. She’d never seen so many people eager to enjoy themselves so vigorously in public before. Of course, she’d never come to such a public gathering for New Year’s, either. It wasn’t her normal milieu.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Wesley in front of the Chinese restaurant they’d agreed upon. He was positioned out of the worst of the wind, protected from the confetti that still blew crazily through the air by the walls on his either side. It surprised her that he was wearing jeans, but the sight of his legs, long and lean in the dark denim, brought unexpected images of how they’d appear when he was pumping in and out of her vividly to her mind’s eye.
She shook her head to clear it. This was a time for work. Lovers or no, Wesley was her superior on this mission. What was even more important, it appeared as if the night wouldn’t be a fiasco. Her lateness could easily be blamed upon the holiday traffic; none of her aborted business with the mage would ever have to come to light. Her career could still be salvaged.
He didn’t see her approach. Turned away from the crowd, Wesley had his mobile pressed to one ear, a finger plugging his other ear in order to hear whatever was being said on the phone. “That’s right,” he was yelling as she stopped just behind him. “The mission’s been compromised. Get them out of here at once. All of them but Rupert.”
Abruptly ending the call, he nearly dropped the phone when he turned and saw her standing so close to him. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea how late you are?”
Lydia couldn’t answer. She was transfixed by just how blue Wesley’s eyes were. She’d noticed them before, of course, but tonight they seemed especially sparkling. Bright. Intelligent. Absolutely riveting.
He frowned. “Did you hear me?” he said, raising his voice even further. When she didn’t respond, he grasped her by the shoulders and gave her a mild shake. “Lydia? What’s wrong?”
Her tongue darted out to lick her lips. All she could smell was the aftershave she’d got him for Christmas from Marks and Spencer’s. It made her want to bury her nose in his neck and just breathe him in, but the way he held her away from him made that impossible.
“Did I hear you say we’re aborting the mission?” she asked.
He seemed perplexed by her question. “Well, no---,” Wesley started, but he relaxed just enough for her to push forward into his arms, slamming his back onto the wall behind him.
“You’re lying,” she said. Stretching so that her body was pressed flush with his, she nuzzled his cheek, inhaling the scent on his skin even deeper before turning her head to pepper wet kisses along his jaw. “I heard what you said. Everything’s…” Her hand slipped between their bodies, down his torso, inside the waistband of his jeans to find his hardening cock. “…compromised.”
His breath was warm in her ear, his hands scrambling along her sides to try and find a place to settle. They were failing miserably. “What are you doing?” he asked, though his voice was barely a squeak. “We’re…Lydia…this is a…oh god…”
She was pumping up and down on his cock now, freeing him from the confines of his denim to allow her strokes to be longer, harder, all the while nibbling on the exposed line of his neck. “It’s a party, Wesley,” Lydia murmured. “We should be enjoying ourselves, not stuck doing silly Council business.”
His fingers clutched at her coat, digging into the soft flesh of her hips as if torn between pulling her closer or pushing her away. “Stopping evil…is hardly silly,” he managed.
“But we don’t stop it. We just slow it down.” Squeezing at the base of his cock, she chuckled at the throaty groan it elicited. “Relax,” she whispered. “It’s not like I’ve never done this for you before. We’re just not hiding out in your office this time.”
The pleasure of touching him was cut short when he made his decision and thrust her away from him. Holding her at arms’ length, Wesley stared at her with narrowed eyes, searching her face for something other than the desire that flamed her cheeks. “What on earth has possessed you?” he asked. “This isn’t like you, Lydia. This is hardly decorous. We’re in public, for goodness sake.”
Having her advances thwarted so vehemently turned her ardor into anger. “Must everything be about appearances with you?” she demanded. “It’s a new year, Wesley. A chance for new beginnings. Trying new things. Stop being such a stick in the mud.”
“Handjobs in Leicester Square are hardly new things.”
“They are for you.”
His mouth opened to rebut, but all of a sudden his gaze shifted, settling on her exposed neckline. For a moment, Lydia thought that he was changing his mind, but then his hand curled around her wrist and thrust her arm out beyond the eaves that protected them from the wind.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He didn’t say a word. Together, they watched as some of the swirling confetti landed on her exposed hand and then dissolved into her skin like melting snow.
Lydia’s eyes grew wide. “What is it?”
“The answer to your odd behavior, I’d wager.” He pulled her back into the shelter of the doorway, reaching back into his pocket for his phone. “I need to call Rupert. He’s going to want to be apprised of this new development. I just hope he was inside when it started.”
It was hard to believe that the holiday décor could be responsible for how she felt, but Lydia couldn’t deny the effect of how it had reacted to physical contact. “This is too powerful for the vampires,” she said. “This would have to be the work of a witch or some other magical force. But it seems an awful coincidence that they’d attack the same place the vampires chose, don’t you think?”
“It depends.” He was squinting at his phone, wrinkles in his brow. “Damn it. My signal’s going in and out.”
“I could go---.”
“No!” His grip tightened around her wrist, tugging her back against him. Lydia realized then that his jeans were still undone, his now semi-hard cock still exposed to the elements. “I’m not letting you out in this, not in your current condition.”
She couldn’t resist slipping her free hand back into his jeans. “So, why don’t you let me get back to what I wanted to do in the first place?” she cooed.
Wesley fumbled with his phone in order to reach down and jerk her away from his cock. It slipped from his fingers, clattering to the cement, as he awkwardly zipped himself back up, all the while frowning at the disappointment in her face. “We must think clearly,” he chastised. “The vampires will be out soon, and if this confetti has the same effect on them, it’s going to be a massacre. Surely you don’t want that.”
Lydia pouted. “Obviously, I’m not going to get what I want,” she said. The thought of their business tonight was the least appealing thing she could consider at the moment, and it was infuriating her that Wesley kept coming back to it. “Ethan was right. You really don’t know how to have any fun.”
The name fell from her lips with an ease she didn’t expect, freezing Wesley in mid-reach for his phone. “Ethan?” he said slowly. “Not Ethan Goodman in Artifacts and Acquisitions?”
Her bark of laughter was derisive. “Please,” she said. “He has three chins and smells like castor oil. I’d hope you’d think my standards were higher than that.”
“Then…who is Ethan?”
She ran a finger along the lapel of his coat. “Are you jealous?” she asked with a sly smile.
“How can I be jealous of a man I don’t even know?”
“He says you do, though I’ve never been able to get any specific details from him. He can be quite private when he chooses. It’s very frustrating.”
“Lydia…” Taking a deep breath, Wesley glanced again at his phone before returning his attention to her. “You’re not acting like yourself,” he said. “I don’t know what exactly is going on, but I promise you I’ll find out as soon as I can. For now, I just want you to tell me…who is this Ethan you’re referring to?”
She shouldn’t have mentioned the mage in the first place. She’d had every intention of keeping his identity a secret until she’d learned everything she could from him for the Council, but something about the magic that must be swirling about had lowered her defenses. The cat was out of the bag now, though; there was nothing to be done except tell Wesley what he wanted to know.
“Someone I was hoping to utilize for the Council,” she admitted. “His name is Ethan Rayne.”
Long before he reached the magic shop, Giles was feeling the effects of the confetti. His body tingled with newfound energy, vigor that couldn’t be attributed to the cold or the potential danger of the situation. It made him hard, aware of each person that jostled him along the way, itching to grab onto the nearest warm body and slam it against the wall so that he could slide his aching cock into the bliss it promised. He knew it was the spell that was most likely to blame; for the first time in years, Giles didn’t care if it was male or female that he fucked.
When the woman bumped into him, his first instinct was to lash out at her, to scold her for being so careless. But then she turned her eyes to him, and he saw the intelligence glittering in the brown irises that gazed up at him, the soft curve of her cheek, the lush swell of her lower lip. He was struck dumb by her mouth alone.
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically. She was American. A tourist, most likely. “There’s so many people---.”
“That’s quite all right.” He discovered his voice out of nowhere, his body warming to her proximity. “After all, ‘tis the season.”
When she smiled at the slight flirtation in his tone, Giles’ mouth unexpectedly watered. She was far too young for him, mid-twenties at best, and under other circumstances, he was certain she wouldn’t have given him a second look. But in that moment, at that place, all he could imagine was how she would taste on his tongue, how smooth her inner thighs would be as he licked his way to her tight little quim, and his cock was practically quivering at the prospect of slamming into her when he was done feasting.
“I’m Jocelyn,” she said and stuck out her hand in greeting.
He couldn’t resist taking it, though the chill in her fingers made him worry that in spite of her heavy coat, she wasn’t protected enough from the elements. “Rupert,” he replied.
She laughed, but it was one of amusement not mockery. “Figures the most attractive man I’ve seen tonight is also the most British.”
“And flattery’s hardly necessary if you’ve already been forgiven for the indiscretion of bumping into me.”
When she took a step closer, he didn’t move, allowing her to enter his personal space. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Giles knew he should be moving on, that he had places to go, people to see, if he hoped to put a stop to…something. The problem was, he was having difficulty remembering just what could possibly be more important than the entrancing creature now standing before him.
“Flattery implies that I’m lying,” Jocelyn said. Her voice was low, but he had no difficulty understanding her through the din of the crowds surrounding them. “I don’t do that. I find that the truth works so much better to get what I want.”
“There is no truth,” Giles murmured. “There is only perception.”
She surprised him with a brilliant smile. “Quoting Flaubert when I’m trying my damnedest to seduce you? Color me impressed.”
But he didn’t have the opportunity to finish the question. A hand much stronger than he would’ve imagined pressed into the middle of his chest, driving him back off the walk and into the alley between a book store and a coffee shop. Giles stumbled along the way, but his eyes never left hers, not even when that same hand trailed down his torso and slipped beneath his jacket find the bare skin of his abdomen.
“I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on some people,” she said. “Tonight’s a very important night to me. But somehow, I think keeping an eye on you will be a lot more fun.”
A long fingernail scraped against his stomach, making him hiss from the pleasurable sting. “You have an interesting idea of fun.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Her mouth found his then, and it was as succulent as Giles had imagined it would be. While he kissed her back just as violently as she was attacking him, he gripped her upper arms, twisting her around so that it was her back pressed into the wall, his cock now pushing against her hips, his strength that was keeping her from disappearing on him for good. It had been far too long since someone had excited him so, and to be wanted in return was a heady balm impossible to ignore.
She chuckled when his fingers tangled in her dark hair, yanking her head to the side so that he could devour the long line of her neck. “I like the way you play,” Jocelyn said. Her hands pulled at the buttons of his jeans, finally freeing his throbbing cock to the cold wind that still blew around them. “Do you bite, too?”
He answered her by sinking his teeth into the soft tissue of her shoulder.
The blissful sigh that escaped her throat was followed immediately by her hands reaching around to cup his ass. Giles didn’t need further encouragement to push back her coat, or to tug at the long skirt that hid her long, shapely legs, or to slide his fingers beneath the tiny slip of her panties to find her soaking slit. She was chilled through, he realized, and proceeded to cover her body with more of his, letting her guide him closer so that the tip of his erection nudged along her slick folds.
“I don’t…normally do this,” he managed, his mouth finding hers again.
As she lifted her legs to curl them around his slim hips, Jocelyn’s moan of pleasure reverberated throughout her torso, echoing into Giles’ flesh in spite of the layers of clothes that separated them. “I’d say you’re doing a spanking good job then,” she breathed, pushing down onto his length.
The velvety tightness of her pussy sucked him even deeper, obliterating the last of his thoughts about what else he was supposed to be doing that night. All he wanted was to feel her writhing against him, hear the soft words of encouragement spilling from her luscious mouth as he pounded harder and harder into her depths. It was New Year’s Eve, damn it. It was a time to celebrate. The only thing that mattered was enjoying the sin of this gorgeous woman’s flesh while he could.
For as long as humanly possible.
His peace was shattered when the door flew open and Jane came barreling inside. Rolling his eyes, Ethan picked up the candle her entrance had knocked over and resumed his position within the circle. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he chastised. “Do you need your instructions written out as if you were a schoolchild? Really, Jane, how hard can it be---.”
His head snapped in her direction, eyes narrowing. “That’s not possible,” Ethan said. “Lydia gave me the list of Watchers involved tonight. He wasn’t on it.”
“Then she either lied to you, or he decided to tag along for the fun.” Her nostrils were flaring, her breasts heaving from the exertion of running up the flights of stairs to reach the room he’d leased for the night. “I just saw him down off Dean Street.”
“And you just let him get away?” He didn’t have time for this. The spell had already been released on the unsuspecting crowds; the mystical energy that was going to be released would soon be ready for him to siphon.
“Of course, I didn’t. After everything you’ve said about him? I tried to keep him away from the square, but he wouldn’t listen. He wasn’t even interested in having help against the vampires, not that it’ll do much good once everybody gets---where are you going?”
“To finish what you should’ve already done,” Ethan snapped, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door. “Touch anything and you’ll regret having fingers to touch with, my dear. I’ll be back as soon as I can be.”
He didn’t linger. Seeing the fear in her face was inconsequential compared to finding Ripper. He’d gone to great lengths to keep his ex-friend safe through everything; it would be just like the contrary old man to throw a spanner into the works now.
To be continued in Chapter 3: See Which Way the Wind Blows…