Square pools of light spread dimly across the wooden floorboards, shrouding most of the room in darkness. The full moon shining through the ceiling level windows bears silent witness to the movements of the sole occupant, the exercise pads upon which he treads muffling any noise. His well-worn knee length boots mold his long legs almost as lovingly as the soft leather pants that stretch with every move. The sinews on his legs tighten as he repeats the familiar pattern. Lunge, step back, lunge, retreat, strike. The foil in his left hand obeys his silent commands as though an extension of his arm, moving swiftly through the air to strike down an invisible enemy. The impression of a pirate is only enhanced by the platinum hoop hanging from his left ear.
His breathing increases as he moves faster through the steps, sweat beading on his exposed forearms. After hours of training, the shirt is now damp from the exercise. He'd long undone the buttons to allow some of the artificial cool from the air conditioner reduce his body heat. The dampness of his chest hair belies the success of that ploy. He pauses to wipe some sweat from his forehead, before running his hand through the now curling hair. Sighing, he undoes the top button on his trousers to minimize any physical restriction and begins again, moving along the full length of the exercise mats and back again.
With one final set of intricate moves and a killing lunge, he stands upright and salutes his imaginary nemesis. Sighing, he moves toward the bench running the length of the wall beneath the windows. Taking a towel from the seat he lovingly, gently wipes the length of the blade before replacing its protective tip and laying it against the bench. Turning, he sits and waits for his breath to return to its normal rhythm and his arm and leg muscles to relax. Finally he bends and grasps the foot of one of his boots as he lifts his leg up. Slowly, he pulls the boot from his leg, allowing the leather of his trousers to shake itself free from its confines. He massages the thigh almost absent-mindedly, working the tense muscles loose. Only when he's satisfied does he repeat the same procedure with the other leg. He then pushes the cuff of his trousers up, exposing light cotton socks. Grabbing the top of the material, he rolls it down, the hairs on his legs springing up as the slight breeze from the air conditioner caresses his cooling skin. As he exposes his long, well shaped feet, he rotates the ankles, then massages the sole of each one. Finally, he spreads his toes against the wooden floor as he selects another spare towel and wipes the remaining sweat from his face and down his exposed chest and stomach, stopping only where the shirt is still tucked into his trousers.
Standing, he collects the used towels and foil and makes his way to a cabinet on the adjoining wall. He secures the foil in its place, then strokes his hand lovingly along a sabre standing next to it. He pauses, something warning him he's not alone. Grabbing the handle of the sabre he spins, lifting his weapon to challenge his unknown intruder.
He lifts one eyebrow at the site before him, and drops the blade of his sword to the floor. Unable to help yourself, you begin to applaud, not only the speed in which he'd been able to defend himself, but also the performance you've been silently watching for some time now. "Rupert, you never fail to impress me."
He raises his eyebrow higher at your comment as you realize how that could be taken and feel a blush rising. "I always aim to please."
You shake your head. "Oh, if only your beloved scoobies could see you now."
It's his turn to shake his head. You'd learnt long ago that this is one subject that's taboo. He adroitly changes the subject, as usual. "Why didn't you tell me you were here?"
You cock your head to one side. "And risk being skewered because I surprised you?" He acknowledges your point. "Besides, I would have missed the show."
He smiles, one of those rare full stretches of the mouth that you yearn to see more often. Even after all these months back in England, he carries such a sadness about him. "But then you could have joined me."
You recognize the challenge and the invitation in his voice. You weigh up which one to accept, and decide both are available. You nod at him and move toward the cabinet where the swords are kept. You allow your arm to brush his as you pass, enjoying the smell of his heated body, imagining how more heated you'll soon make it. "And what will we play for?"
He leans against the wall as he watches you select your weapon. Although there are still traces of the shy Giles who first returned from Sunnydale, more and more a stronger, more confident Rupert has emerged. "You choose."
"The usual?" His grin becomes feral as he salutes your offer and takes his place on the training mats. You both know this will be short. Although no amateur with the blades yourself, there are few who can match Giles. And when the stakes are something you both want, you never fight too hard. Making sure the training tips are in place, you both assume position.
Within two minutes Giles has won point, and your shoes have joined his. Your stocking are next, soon followed by your shirt. Unfortunately, Giles appears to become distracted by the site of you only in your lacy bra and allows you to score point. He bows and opens his arms to allow you to choose your bounty. Your choice is limited, but you wish to stretch the moment out a little longer. Resting your sword against your thigh, you slowly unroll the sleeves of his shirt, before undoing the final few buttons. You brush your hands through the still damp hair on his chest as you slip them under the material of his shirt. Stroking your thumbs along his shoulder blades, you push back, exposing his torso to your greedy eyes. Taking advantage of your momentary loss in concentration, Giles swoops down, taking your mouth in a heated kiss, before drawing your tongue into his mouth. You moan, leaning against the full length of him, as he ravages you thoroughly. You both sigh regretfully as he pulls away. Waiting only until you regain your balance, he steps back and raises his sword. "En Garde."
Giles easily wins the next point, advancing upon you with a deliciously wicked gleam in his eye. He hesitates as he rests his hands against your hips, waiting for your response. You find it ironic that no matter how inventive he is in bed, he still waits for your permission to finish seducing you. Ironic, and one of the most wonderfully romantic characteristics you've ever come across. You gently brush your fingers across his forehead, then stand still as his hands move to the front of your trousers. You hold your breath as he caresses the sensitive area of your stomach, before undoing the button and zip that hold the material up. With a little encouragement from him, your trousers drop to pool at your ankles. You heat up from the appreciative look in his eyes, glad you had given into temptation and bought that matching underwear set in his favourite colour. Smiling, you bend down to collect your clothes and deposit them with the rest. You shiver as you feel he breath against your back.
His arms surround you, enclosing you in his heat and the muskiness that is entirely his. You lean back against him, feeling his erection pushing against you. "We haven't finished our game yet."
He growls in your ear as he presses open kisses against the sensitive flesh behind it. "I cede."
"But you were winning." Your voice is shaky as you try to hold onto some sanity.
"I don't bloody care. I cede." He spins you round, dragging you against him. You moan into his mouth as he commences to ravish your lips and tongue. His hands rest against your buttocks, the filmy lace no barrier to his seeking hands. Your nipples pebble as the whorls of hair on his chest brush against them through the scrap of material covering your breasts. You spread your fingers through his hair, your other hand wrapped around his waist. You press against him, desperate to feel all of him without any barriers.
Giles pushes you back, taking your weight as he lowers you onto the bench. He lays you along its length, before joining you, pressing your body against the cold wood with his own. His hands move, one trailing upwards to mold against your breast. You whimper as his thumb strokes against the already sensitive nub. You move your hands to his butt, drawing him against you fully, opening your legs until he's nestled fully against you. You wrap a leg around him, stroking your foot up and down his legs.
Now he growls before moving, placing kisses and small bites against your chin. He stops only when he's level with your breasts, turning his attention to the one not already being administered to by his hand. He draws the flesh into his mouth, soaking the material until it is almost no barrier at all. He removes his hand from your breast, only to draw your bra down and away from his goal. You cry out as his fingers and tongue return to the now fully exposed flesh. His other hand resumes its journey, pushing underneath your panties. You lift yourself slightly as you feel his fingers squeezing against your buttocks.
Desperate to feel more of him, you move your hands to the front of his trousers, pulling at the zipper until it obeys and moves down. Pushing your hands in the opening, you stroke across his hips until they are resting once more on his arse. You vaguely register that you're touching bare flesh, indicating that he wore nothing underneath the leather.
Taking advantage of the temporary space between your bodies, he moves his hand to the front, his fingers trailing through your pubic hairs. You pant in desperation as you feel their tips brush against your dampness. He spreads your opening slightly, allowing his now free erection to press more fully against you. You know what happens next. What always happens when he ravages you so. He takes you over the edge, and only when you're ready again does he join you. Not tonight. "Rupert. Come into me. Now."
He pauses, looking up at you. Seeing your determination and desperation, he removes his hands before peeling away the last item of clothing on your body. His kisses his way down your chest and stomach as he pushes your panties down your legs. Removing them from you, he throws them away as he kisses your aching core. You are so tempted to allow him to give you your first orgasm this way. You know how good he is with his tongue. But you have other plans for tonight, and you don't want distracting from them. You tug gently on his hair, urging him to rise. He rests on his hands and knees, looking down at your naked body. He smiles before bending down for a gentle kiss. Then he lifts himself up and stands. Watching you watch him, he grabs the waist to his trousers, and pushes them down over his hips. The material clings slightly to his flesh, forcing a little extra exertion on his part. You lick your lips as his penis sways when he pushes against the material once more. He stops suddenly. "Damn."
You don't like that at all. "What?" You have a horrible feeling he's just remembered an apocalypse that's about to happen. "What's wrong?"
He looks up, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I've just realized these damn things don't have any pockets."
You frown in confusion. "Well, what.." You stop as realization hits. "Ah." You smile, relieved that the normally well prepared Rupert Giles could get so carried away. "Then I suppose it's a good thing one of us was a Girl Scout." At his confused query, you point to your own trousers. "I believe in being prepared." He bends over you for anther quick kiss before retrieving your extra supplies from your trouser pocket. Undoing the foil covering, he takes care of business while you lovingly watch. When he's ready you open your arms in invitation. He quickly covers your body with his own.
You kiss each other, ravishing each other's mouths with your tongues. You feel his hand brush against your opening, testing your readiness. In response, you wrap your legs around his waist, feeling his tip brush against your wetness. You catch your breath as you feel him push into you. Although not inexperienced, you'd at first been concerned by his size, but Rupert had since shown you how well the two of you actually fit. You both sigh as he fills you completely. He pulls back a bit to kiss you on the tip of your nose. You smile, then gasp as he begins to move. You allow him to set the rhythm, following his lead happily. You begin to whimper as he pushes against you harder, forcing you to move faster toward your climax. The friction of the wood beneath your back as you slid along the bench from the force of his pounding into you disappeared as you began to orgasm. His mouth swallows your scream as you feel yourself let go. His own cry soon follows as he pushes into you one last time.
You regain your sanity some minutes later, stroking the head pressed against your shoulder. You feel him still inside you, the pressure eased now he's found his release. As much as you enjoy the mind blowing pleasure he gives you every time, you think it's these moments you enjoy. For just a short while, he's completely yours, and the world can go hang. You kiss the top of his head, then smile in memory of the little present you've brought him. You decide to wait a few moments more before putting your plan into action.