Spell It Out
You are standing by Rupert's side in the middle of his living room. He has laid out bowls full of strange mixtures on the table in a makeshift altar and is reciting a spell in Latin. You are handing him ingredients when prompted, and can't help but be a little turned on by the authority in his voice as he chants. Just then the doorbell rings. "Oh God, get rid of them. We're at a critical juncture!" You rush over to the door.
A few minutes later, you re-enter the room. "Damn door-to-door religious peddlers. I told them we were conducting pagan rites and perhaps they'd like to hear a little about "our" religion. You'd be surprised how fast they can run. What's that smell?" The air smells strongly like vinegar, asparagus, and rotten eggs. You look up. Rupert is surrounded by a bluish haze. His face is marred by dark purple smudges and his glasses are askew. "What happened here?"
He coughs. "I told you it was a critical juncture. If you'll excuse me, I'm going upstairs to take a shower. We can try again tomorrow." He starts up the stairs.
Your eyes are stinging from the smoke. You move across the room and open a window to air it out. You sniff at your hair and notice, with a wrinkle of your nose, that the smell has now settled on your hair and skin. "Save me some hot water!" you call up after Rupert.
You make it upstairs and remove your blouse and pants, dropping them on top of the pile of his clothes, hoping they can just be washed and not burned. You turn at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Rupert is standing there wearing only a towel around his waist, drying his hair with another. He stops, seeing you standing there clad in bra and panties. He gets a very un-Rupert like grin. You try to squeeze by him. He steps forward so that in order to gain access to the bathroom, you must either scrape yourself against the doorframe or against him. As you manage to maneuver yourself with minimum contact either way, he bends forward and grazes your cheek with a kiss. You slip into the bathroom and shut the door behind you.
The foul smell washes away from you in a warm flow of lather, replaced by the smell of vanilla. You deposit your underwear in the hamper and wrap up in a towel. You dry your hair enough to stop it dripping, comb it out and re-enter the bedroom.
Rupert is standing not two feet from the door, still wearing just a towel, and that same semi-evil grin. You startle at his presence. "Why aren't you dressed?"
"I don't know. Don't you like what I have on? I can always take it off if you'd rather..." He reaches for the tuck in the towel. Your hand over his own stops him. You feel the blood rush out of your head and straight to your hand where it covers his, as well as to other extremities.
"Rupert. What was in that spell?"
"Nothing dangerous, nothing to worry about."
"Well you're acting sorta...not you."
"Oh?" He is moving his face closer to yours, close enough to feel the heat of his breath.
"Yeah, you're acting sorta...Ripper."
"Nope. Haven't touched any chocolate lately, and nothing in that spell could have caused that kind of a change."
His lips are millimeters from yours, almost tickling your lips. You're not sure your knees are going to keep you upright much longer. "Then what do you call this?"
"I never said the spell couldn't have caused any change. I will admit, I feel a bit more confident. Even...maybe...sexier..." His lips touch yours like an electric jolt. You hand moves away from covering his own to run up his hair sprinkled chest. His hand moves away too, taking his towel with it.
Rupert moves his hand up to your towel and pulls it from your body. Your cold wet hair touches the heated skin of your back, but you really can't decide if it is that sensation or Rupert's palm on your breast that is causing your shivering. He pulls you against him tightly. You can feel his arousal hot against your thigh. His hand trails down your back, coming to rest on your ass and squeezing there while his fingers begin a little forward exploration. You squirm and lean into him. Rupert lifts you into his arms and brings you to lay on the bed.
He gently brushes a wet strip of hair from your face as his body moves to cover yours. He settles himself between your legs, his kisses covering your chest as your hands come into his hair. You begin to rub against him to encourage him on. He smiles down on you. You return his grin and grind against him once more, making him groan your name. He touches the end of his nose to your own, watching your eyes intently as he enters you. You throw your head back against the pillows, the feel of him filling you almost too good to bear. You wrap your legs around his thighs as he pumps harder and faster into you. When he feels himself getting close, he reaches down where your bodies connect and brushes your center with his thumb. You gasp his name as you climax, feeling him join you seconds later with a long moan.
Moments later, you lay in a damp exhausted tangle of limbs. He is kissing your face, smoothing your hair. "You can forget what I said earlier. Feel free to try that spell again any time. Feel even more free to screw it up if that's the result. Gee, I wonder if we could get that annoying woman to knock at the door again?"
"You know, it could be that the spell had nothing to do with it. It could be that seeing you wearing next to nothing simply makes me lose all control of myself."
You snuggle against his chest. "Hmm, could be. I guess there's only one way to find out."
"Yes?"
"Mm-hmm, I guess I'll just have to wear less, more often."
You are answered by a long slow passionate kiss...
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| The character of Rupert Giles and the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer were created by Joss Whedon and are © Fox. No infringement is intended and no profits are being made. |