CALLING
Laura Smith
Giles tucked the blanket more securely around Willow's shoulders before moving one hand up to gingerly brush her hair our of her face.
She moaned softly in her sleep, turning slightly, leaning in to his touch.
A soft, warm wave of desire ran through him, and he pulled away quickly before he could give in to the temptation of her sleep-warmed skin.
Ignoring the not-unpleasant ache in his groin, Giles moved silently up the stairs. He shed his clothes quickly, moving to the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping woman beside him.
A quick glance at Olivia's untroubled sleep made him smile, but the soft tinge of guilt turned it to something of a grimace.
It would be so easy to wake her and love her, so easy to find relief for the need Willow had unknowingly aroused in him.
But what kind of man would that make him? Thinking of Willow while losing himself in Olivia?
But the ache wasn't going to dissipate unaided. He wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity of his situation. Two beautiful women, one even in his bed, and he couldn't – in good conscience – touch either of them.
Sighing, Giles closed his eyes, lowering his hand to his erection, touching the smooth flesh lightly with soft fingers.
Here – in this moment between fantasy and reality, he lost propriety; he lost right and wrong.
Here – naked, the covers thrown to the side, he gave in to his most secret desire.
Here – it was her fingers, warm and tentative when they first touched his cock.
Here – it wasn't impossible, unthinkable or wrong.
Here, it was Willow.
***
One hand held the base, pressing down on his skin while the other wrapped around his cock. He closed his eyes more tightly, blocking out his apartment, his life.
Instead, he was sitting on a chair in the library, one elbow resting on the table, a book in his other hand. The doors swung open, and Willow walked in, a soft smile on her face.
She strode over to him, her short yellow skirt swaying around her thighs. He set his book aside, staring blatantly as she reached him. He could feel the gentle movement of her skirt against his trousers.
Instead of speaking, she grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head.
Giles gasped softly, the imagined sight of her breasts – creamy alabaster tipped with dark rose nipples, tight and hard with arousal – forced his hand to move faster, stroking his rigid flesh.
Willow smiled at him, straddling his legs, holding his shoulders so that he could bend her back, leaning her over his arm. His hand supported her as he moved closer, his teeth capturing one nipple before his lips closed down around it.
She moaned, biting her lower lip, her body grinding down against his.
Giles' mouth opened, his shudder of excitement thankfully silent. In his mind, Willow slid off his lap and knelt between his legs.
Her hands easily unfastened his slacks, freeing his erection from the confines of his clothes.
His hips thrust as his hand kept moving, his thumb dancing over the sensitive tip.
Her lips parted, then closed around him, taking the hard length into her mouth; her tongue working the magic that his own hand could never quite duplicate.
He could see her red hair shrouding her movements, swaying as she moved her mouth so enticingly around him.
One of her hands slipped along his silk boxers, the slight pressure of her fingers against the sensitive skin of his balls, mimicking his own hand, was the last torture he could withstand.
Breath ragged, hand pumping furiously, hips thrusting wildly, Giles spun out of control, crying out softly as he came.
"God…Willow…" he repeated the phrase over and over again as he wrung his orgasm from his cock, the warm liquid bathing his stomach and thighs as he trembled to a stop.
***
Willow lay back down, snuggling deeper under the blanket he'd placed over her. Her face was flushed with embarrassment and guilt, her body flushed with wanting.
She couldn't believe she'd listened to him, his soft moans and words whispering through the apartment in the darkness. Her own hungers trembled inside her, so strong and hard to resist. She couldn't believe she'd been such a voyeur, listening in on Giles' most private moment, but more than that, she couldn't believe he'd called her name…
***
Olivia feigned sleep as he disappeared into the bathroom, then waited until she heard the soft, rhythmic breathing, signifying that he was asleep, before getting out of the bed.
Standing by the window, she stared at the man she shared a bed, and had hoped to share a life, with.
She could share him with demons and vampires. She could even share him with a Slayer and with duty.
But she couldn't share him with another woman. A woman he so obviously loved.
She couldn't share when she knew, somewhere down the line, she would be the loser.
He may have loved her. He may have lain beside her. But Olivia knew it wasn't enough.
Because in the end, he'd called her name…