Parts 15 and 16
by Mary M.
Wilson looked at the young girl, remembering and seeing another young person that had entered his life, a lanky, brown-haired boy with an ego the size of a continent on his shoulder, in desperate need of love, respect and attention. “Ethan is very complex person, Chloe. He’s seen too much and too much has happened to him while he was young.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Deep in thought, Wilson walked briskly along the path to the Watchers’ Compound, towards the Appointment Room. Something was going on, the message that he had received from the school secretary had been very odd. He had been told that it was necessary that he meet with the Council immediately. He hoped that the meeting would not last very long, for he was supposed to be getting his place ready for Sharna, his untrained Slayer.
He looked at his pocket watch and sighed. Unfortunately, he had been delayed by the traffic. Eyeing the shrubs, he wondered if he jump over it and save a couple of minutes. Suddenly, a flash of light appeared, then a voice was heard.
Curious, Wilson crept over towards a particularly dense shrub. Parting some branches quietly, he saw the Rayne boy, Ethan, sitting cross-legged and in front of a circle. In the center of that circle was a small, half-used open vial of perfume that one would buy over the counter.
Sighing inwardly, Wilson wondered if Rayne were going to curse or afflict something on the Fletcher boy. Instead, Wilson watched as a cloud of smoke came forth from the vial and images formed.
“Now, young man, you know that this is a good move. It is good that you are here, with your grandfather and in this Watcher compound,” said the female figure. The woman was dressed in clothes that were considered quite fashionable several years ago and quite pretty. “They can give you so much more than I ever could.”
“But it’s even better for you, isn’t it, Mum,” sneered a young male voice, angry and defiant. From what Wilson could see, the young boy looked like Ethan when he was younger. “You leaving me here and you living the high life with that ponce of yours.”
“When are you going to understand that I am not going to live the high life with out you? Love, that ponce is the man responsible for giving me a respectable job. If he needs me to deliver a parcel for him, I will,” the woman said sharply. “Plus he’s not one to try and get under my knickers even though you think otherwise. He’s a gentleman and he treats me like a lady, not like the morning rubbish, Ethan.”
Wilson watched as he studied the mulish look on the young boy’s face, then looked at Ethan. His eyes widened as he realized what the woman called the young boy. [What the hell is going on?!? How does he have an affinity for magic at such a young age?!? And to call forth a memory!]
“Damn it, you think that this is easy for me? Knowing that I can’t keep you? Knowing that I’m no good for you?” demanded the woman. She shook the younger version of Ethan. “You are my son, my boy. And damn it, Ethan, I will have a better life for you. Something that I can’t give you at this moment.”
“Mum, I still don’t understand why you have to go away,” Ethan said sullenly. “Just because the old fart-“
“Ethan, you will not call your grandfather an old fart,” said Ethan’s mother with some amount of exasperation. “He is a man that was kind enough to take us in when he didn’t have to.”
Ethan snorted. “The old man only took us in because Grandmother made him and I’m his bastard grandson-ow!“
Wilson saw the young Ethan rub his ear as the older one touched the same ear. Ethan’s mother looked stern as she knelt to look eye to eye with her son. “Don’t you ever say that word! You are not a bastard. You are my son and don’t you forget that, young man. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan said sullenly. “But I still don’t-“
Ethan’s mother put her finger on her son’s lip. “You know why I really have to go on this trip, Ethan. The Watchers would not accept you completely if I were around and your grandfather would be much harder on you. You would have to work twice as hard to earn their respect because of me, and I will not have that. Do you understand?”
Young Ethan remained silent and his mother sighed before she kissed his brow. “You will do your studies, young man, and you will learn something from this Watcher compound of theirs. You will mind your grandmother and your teachers. No more playing around with magic unless you know how to control it, understand?”
“Yes, Mum,” young Ethan said dutifully. He smiled back when his mother smiled at him and hugged him tightly. “I love you, Mum.”
Wilson watched as Ethan’s mother gave him a smacking kiss. “And I love you, Ethan, totally and completely. You’ll always be my heart forever and ever. And when you find a girl that’ll steal your heart like your father did mine, I’ll make room for her too.”
“Girls,” Ethan grimaced fiercely as only a young boy under his preteen years could. “What good are they?”
Ethan’s mother gave him an amused smile. “I hope it takes you a few more years before you find out. Hey, you know what? I think that when we have enough money to do our own thing, we’ll get a place of our own and thumb our noses at the Watchers we don’t like.”
“Mum, I thought you told me that I had to mind my teachers,” Ethan said as he looked at her. “How can you thumb your nose at them and mind them at the same time?”
“It’s an art form that you’ll learn when you’re older. You can mind people, but you don’t have to like them, sort of like your relationship with your grandfather and grandmother,” Ethan’s mother said as she rose to primp up her hair, then sprayed some perfume on her wrists. “You mind your grandfather, but you don’t like him. You mind Grandmother but you like her. Now, I have to go, love, and I’ll be back at the end of the month. Hopefully, after a year or so we’ll have scads of money. Let’s be off now.”
The wind blew, and the images in the puff of smoke disappeared, leaving the older Ethan to stare at the bottle of perfume. Quietly, Wilson withdrew to leave the boy to his thoughts.
Two days later, Lucius Wilson sat at his desk staring at the information before him. Ethan Rayne was the illegitimate grandson of High Councilor Sebastian Thompson and Lady Arabella Spencer-Thompson.
Ten years ago, Lady Arabella and High Councilor’s only heir, Edward, got himself involved with Ethan’s mother, Felicia Rayne. The lovely, young woman had been a part-time student worker for the History Department in Oxford. From several accounts, while teaching a special medical-history class in Oxford, Spencer-Thompson had become quite intimate with Felicia until his untimely death. Several of the old rumors reported that the couple was on the verge of an elopement due to the objections from the High Councilor.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Wilson looked at Chloe and repeated, ”Ethan is a very complex man and his story is not for me to tell.”
Chloe frowned at this. “Okay, I can understand that, but I still don’t like it. And how am I supposed to know if he’d be good for Wesley or not?”
“The true question you need to ask is this: Does Ethan think that he’s good enough for Wesley?” Wilson countered as he looked at Chloe. “In any case, Ethan knows that if he wants to stay with Wesley, he must accept you, Chloe. You will always be a part of Wesley’s life, and that will never change. Ethan knows that. Now, lie down and sleep, girl. We have much to research tomorrow.”
Obeying him, Chloe lay down on her bed and thought about what Wilson said. “But knowing and accepting are two different things, Mr. Wilson.”
“Yes, they are,” Wilson said gently as he went over and tucked her in with his remaining appendage. Without thinking, he kissed her forehead. “Good night and happy dreams to you, Chloe. What’s wrong?”
Chloe looked at him with wide green eyes. “Michael never kissed me good-night. Does this mean that if Ethan and Wesley get together you’re gonna be my surrogate grandpa?”
“Well, let’s wait to hear what the two have decided before we decide anything,” Wilson said practically. He held up his hand as Chloe was about to protest. “We’ll talk about it in the morning, now go to sleep.”
“But if Ethan and Wesley get together, does that mean Ethan’s gonna be acting like a mom for me?” Chloe demanded with narrow eyes as a thought hit her. “It’ll really be weird ‘cause I can’t really see him in an apron and making me brownies after I get back from slaying. And I really can’t see him trying to be a mom for me ‘cause I really don’t see him doing my hair-”
“Now, Chloe, I told you, go to sleep,” Wilson said evenly as he pinched her nose. “There’s no use to think about that until we hear what Ethan and Wesley have decided. Sleep. Ah-ah! No more talking, young lady, we much to do tomorrow. Now sleep.”
“Fine,” Chloe grumbled as she buried herself into her pillow. “But if Buffy can have a family and friends, why can’t I?”
Wilson was proud of himself when he prevented himself from rolling his eyes at Chloe’s single mindedness. Ignoring the question and her petulant tone, he went over to his bed, lifted the covers and slip between the blankets. When he saw Chloe’s head lift up again, Wilson lifted his eyebrow at her and pointed down to her pillow. “Head down and go to sleep, Chloe. Now.”
Chloe shoved her head down again. “Good night. But I still don’t think that it’s fair that-”
“Good night, Chloe,” Wilson said as he clicked off the lamp light. He heard Chloe make a small sound of frustration, then the small room fell blissfully silent. He snorted in amusement as the sudden image of Ethan wearing a pink apron while braiding Chloe’s hair came into mind. He smiled as he thought about having a small family to care about after all the lonely years. [It would be interesting.]
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
With Ethan right behind him, Wesley walked quickly into the library as fast as he could. Then stopped only because he reached the fall wall of the library. With rueful amusement, he noted that the urge to go through the wall and beyond was quite strong. He did not fail to notice that he would rather, at this moment, face a hundred Bhavikan assassins instead of Ethan.
Wesley knew that he wanted this conversation, that he needed this conversation with Ethan. But as much as he wanted and needed this conversation to take place, he had dreaded its coming. He clasped his hands together as he tried to think rationally. Again with rueful amusement, he momentarily reflected on his topsy-turvy emotions. “Oh, bloody hell.”
Ethan quietly shut the door as he followed Wesley into the library. An uncharacteristic quietness filled him as he watched Wesley walk over to the bookcase. With his own brand of rueful amusement, he noted that his own scathing and wayward tongue kept still for once and forced him to momentarily reflect on his own topsy-turvy emotions.
Since his break up with Wesley more than a year ago, he buried himself into his worship of Chaos. He planned and executed plans to bring the Watcher Network down, but he could call none of those plans an undeniable success. Since Ripper picked him up this afternoon, Ethan had to look back at this past year and admit to himself that since Wesley left him, there wasn’t much of the same old hatred and passionate calling for the destruction of the Watcher network.
It was still there, but it wasn’t just as fiery and consuming, like it had been twenty years ago or like it still was for the Bhavikans. In fact, since this afternoon, Ethan was quite surprised to find that though he was more than willing to participate to help avenge Sharna, he was not willing to do so at the cost of Wesley or Wilson’s life. And Ripper’s, if he were to be honest with himself.
In fact, to be uncomfortably honest, he was just content to cast a few nasty spells to make life uncomfortable or unbearable for Travers and the others. Ethan snorted at himself. [I must be growing old, I’d rather have Travers and the others have a long life and suffer rather than have them die off immediately.]
With uncharacteristic hesitation, Ethan wondered what to say when he heard Wesley say something. “Pardon?”
“I said, ‘Oh, bloody hell’,” Wesley said as he turned around to face Ethan, his mouth twisted up wryly. “A term that I seemed to have picked up from you, among other things.”
Not sure of what to say, Ethan blinked as he looked at Wesley. “I didn’t know that I was that much of an influence on you.”
[Ah, the opening gambit] Ethan thought as he looked at Wesley evenly. “I really don’t know what you want me to say. Did you want me to say that I wasn’t angry and hurt that you’d accepted Travers and your grandfather’s decision about sending you away? That I was absolutely thrilled that you were going to Sunnydale to become a Watcher for the Slayer? Is that what you wanted me to say?”
“How about that you saying that you wanted to go with me? That I mattered more to you than your blasted revenge on Travers and the Council?” Wesley demanded as he looked at Ethan hotly. “That I mattered more to you more than Sharna did. But you never said any of those things; you just wanted to keep your secrets, your plots for revenge and Sharna deep inside your heart where no one could touch you.”
Feeling the blood drain from his face, Ethan stared at Wesley. “Sharna-I don’t discuss Sharna with anyone-“
“That’s quite obvious,” Wesley retorted stiffly. “I realize now that you refused to share a great many things with me. In fact, while watching Giles and Buffy’s mother interact with each other, I noticed quite a few things that were…lacking in our relationship, Ethan. You refused to share much of your past with me, kept almost everything about yourself in a secret room…such as your relationship with Giles.”
“What of my relationship with him?” Ethan asked stiffly. “You do not need to know anything about our past, Wesley. He-“
“He was your lover,” Wesley said as he looked at Ethan. His lips tightened as he felt that he was about to heave everything that he had eaten the last six hours. “How do you think it made me feel when I heard that, Ethan?”
“How-you-“ Ethan took a deep breath. “I didn’t know that you and Ripper compared notes about me.”
“We didn’t. In fact until today, I didn’t even know that you and Giles had a past, but thinking about it, I should have known. You had a wistful look on your face when we last talked,” Wesley said stiffly as he shook off the memory. “Another glowing example of a secret you refused to share with me.”
“I told you that had been in a few relationships, Wesley,” Ethan said coolly as a small gnawing sense of guilt started to bite at him. He tried to get the stiffness out of his jaw, but to no avail. “I had no reason to mention their names, any information on them and their whereabouts to you or to anyone.”
“Because I wasn’t important enough to you,” Wesley shot at him as a pang of disappointment went through him.
“Because I don’t ever kiss and tell,” Ethan shot back. He looked at Wesley angrily. “Whomever I am with, I don’t tell names of my past discretions, not to you, not to Ripper, not to anyone. My past is my own and no one else’s, Wesley.”
“Except that your past seems to be colliding with everyone’s life future, Ethan,” Wesley retorted. His fists clenched as he looked at Ethan. “There are Watchers that died-“
“Because of what they did to Sharna and Wilson,” Wesley said as he looked at Ethan, who face was expressionless. “You hate them because they Passed her for being a Bhavikan, and not a human, didn’t they?”
“If that’s your answer then who am I to say that you’re wrong?” Ethan said as he turned away from Wesley.
Wesley stared at Ethan’s back as the wheels started to turn in his mind. “It’s more than that, wasn’t it Ethan? Sharna, you cared for her. And from what Achala said, I gather that she obviously cared for you, enough to make her give you a place of honor among her people.“
Ethan made no answer, but Wesley continued ruthlessly on. “Lucius Wilson, you cared about him, you had a father-son relationship with him. And he disappeared the night that Sharna died, you never saw him again until today. You’re angry because you believe the Watchers took them away from you.”
“Pop psychology, Wesley,” Ethan snorted as he turned to look at Wesley derisively. “I’d never have believed it of you. I suppose all that studying in psychology has been paid off.”
Ignoring Ethan’s dig, Wesley ran his fingers through his hair. “Things have changed, Ethan. Back then they killed her out of fear and prejudice, Ethan, because they didn’t know better. But it’s wrong to condemn the whole Network for what they did to Sharna-“
“And that is where we differ, Tiger,” Ethan said in dulcet tones. “You think it’s wrong to destroy the network, to kill all the Watchers. I don’t. You say that they changed, well, then, if they changed so much, then why did Travers tell you to kill Faith? Was possible that little comatose Faith a danger to them? Or was she merely a symbol of their failure? Watchers kill young girls every generation, Wesley. But it’s not only young girls, Wesley. It’s anybody and everybody that gets in their way, good or evil, that the network kills. They’re all a bunch of murderers, with Travers and his lackeys spearheading the way. So if the Bhavikans wish to kill off the entire network, let them.”
“So you would condemn the whole lot of us to death,” Wesley demanded with narrow eyes. “You’d kill innocents just so you’d have your revenge for Sharna and Wilson? Condemn them to Hell as well simply because they mistakenly followed Travers and his cronies?”
“Forward, forward, ay and backward, downward into the abysm,” Ethan replied with a cold smile.
“Don’t you dare quote Tennyson to me,” Wesley said through gritted teeth. Rage filled Wesley as his hand itched to slap the cold look on Ethan’s face. “I won’t have it.”
”I’ll quote whomever I think is appropriate,” Ethan said coldly. “But if you want a different one, how’s this for the Watchers that followed Travers: ‘Theirs is not to question why, merely to do and die.’ How about that?”
“You’re not helping matters, Ethan,” Wesley said through gritted teeth. “You and Wilson have the ability to stop the Bhavikans, but you won’t help. Why? If Wilson is willing to stop the killing, why aren’t you? I would think that Sharna wouldn’t want her people to kill innocents-“
“I don’t want to fix the world, I just want to stop the killing,” Wesley said hotly as he glared at Ethan. “And if you’re not here to stop the assassins, then why are you here?”
“To stop you from being killed, you silly twit!” Ethan roared back.
Silence filled the room as Wesley stared, slack-jawed at Ethan. The older man looked back at him, looking furious, embarrassed and defiant. “I came to stop you from getting killed by the Bhavikans, something that would have very likely to happened, sooner or later. It was only a matter of time before they’d tire you out, so much that you’d wish they’d just kill you and be done with it.”
When Wesley stood there, still staring at him and saying nothing, Ethan looked at the sofa bed, then started to grab a pillow and a couple of blankets. “Listen, I’ll sleep on Ripper’s sofa in the living room. You-you just sleep here, good night, Wes.”
As the door quickly shut, Wesley stared at it. A smile starting to form on his face. He looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes as he hugged that small bit of precious information to himself. “He came to save me…Ethan came to save me. You were wrong, Grandfather. He still does care for me, he does.”
**** SPECIAL NOTE: NC-17 ****
For those of you younger than 17, nothing revelent to the story is told here. Read the first 10 paragraphs and the last 5 paragraphs to know the romance between Giles and Joyce
She sighed with relief as she eased herself into the tub, and laid her head back. She cupped up some water and bubbles, gently cleaning her aching face with the scented and heated water. Then with a sigh, she closed her eyes. “Oh, God, this feels good.”
Carrying towels, Giles entered the bathroom quietly. His eyes became grim as he knelt to study the bruises and scrapes on her porcelain skin. Under her lovely brown eyes were black and blue bags, showing how tired and worried she was. This was his fault, he should have watched over her more carefully. Made sure that she was safe. He should have-“It’s not your fault, you know. If it was, Buffy would have beaten you to a pulp.”
Startled, he caught her steady gaze. “I should never have gotten involved with you. You would have been safer if-”
“Don’t start this again, Rupert. I’m not in the mood for one of our arguments about the dangers of being with you,” Joyce said calmly as she grabbed a washcloth and gingerly started to wipe her face. Then winced as she touched a sore spot.
Sitting on the edge of the tub, Giles took the washcloth from her hands and started to gently clean her face with it. “It is dangerous, Joyce. Especially now with these Bhavikan assassins going around and killing Watchers. You and Buffy are safe, but I’m not. They could decide to kill-“
“They won’t,” Joyce interrupted him fiercely. “These assassins won’t kill you, Rupert.” She placed a hand on his protesting lips. “And this isn’t just because I want to avoid thinking of the possibility. It’s because I know that you’re different from those other Watchers they’ve killed, you’re more like Wilson. You’d die to protect Buffy and I think that’s what the Bhavikans are looking for, Watchers that would die to protect their Slayers.”
“I don’t know, Joyce,” Rupert said as he kissed her fingers, then cupped her hand against his face. “If that’s true, then I’m safe enough this time. But I still think that you’d be safer, perhaps happier to be with a man who doesn’t have calling or is in the front of the battle between good and evil.”
“Charles Dubois from La Monde Export asked me if I’d like to have dinner with him sometime, at his place. He wants to discuss a joint exhibit over quail, Fois de Gras and champagne. Should I accept?” Joyce asked as she cocked her head to the side. He remained silent, but she felt his hand slightly tighten involuntarily and saw the flash in his eyes before he could control it. As he pulled away to rise the washcloth, she knew what his answer was even before he said anything.
“If you wish to go out with him, you may,” Rupert said coolly as he envisioned himself stuffing the amorous Frenchman into one of the museum’s many sarcophagus. The Egyptian exhibit was over in Sunnydale, and the next stop was headed towards Alaska. Or perhaps he’d just stuff the Frenchie into the arms of the next demon that was threatening Sunnydale. His hands shook as he wrung the washcloth, and pretended it was the frog’s neck. “I certainly would not stop you.”
“Um-hmm, so generous, Rupert. I think that I’d do just that,” Joyce said as she smiled at him. With a grunt he stopped wiping her face, and started to rise, but stopped when she placed a hand on his chest. “But there’s just one thing-”
With all her might, Joyce fisted a handful of Rupert’s sweater and yanked him towards her as hard as she could. Water splashed all over the bathroom floor as he lost his balance and fell into the tub with a curse. As he sputtered and cleared the bubbles from his eyes, Joyce quickly moved around him to sit astride on his stomach. As he glared at her, she continued blithely, “I don’t like quail, he has a tendency to get cheap champagne and his mouth moves when he talks.”
“Point taken.” Rupert said as a reluctant smile came on his lips. “I suppose you’re stuck with me then.”
“I suppose I am,” Joyce agreed as she kissed him tenderly. Before the kiss could get any deeper, she pulled away and grinned at him impishly. “At least until a better model comes along.”
“You little minx,” Rupert laughingly scolded as he tickled her under her ribs. She let out a shriek of laughter, then a cry of pain. Immediately, he stopped and gently touched her face. “I’m sorry, baby, I hurt you.”
“I’m fine, darling. Really.” Joyce brushed away his concern with a kiss. She looked at him speculatively as she fingered the hem of his sweater. “You know, Rupert, you’re really supposed to take a bath without any clothes on.”
“I wasn’t planning to take a bath,” Rupert said dryly. “Some one just pulled me in. I think it was the water sprite who likes to live in my bath.”
“Sounds like you should get rid of her,” Joyce clucked as she took off his sweater. Suppressing a smile, she hooked her arms around his shoulders as she sat directly on top of his hardness. She nuzzled his ear as she rubbed herself against him. ”She sounds like a little troublemaker.”
“Usually, she’s no trouble at all,” Rupert replied as he nipped her shoulder, then kissed it. “She’s just playful, mischievous and utterly insatiable. Not to mention absolutely wonderful.”
“In that case, you should keep her then,” Joyce said breathlessly as his mouth latched on to her nipple. She felt a momentary twinge of pain when his hands pressed against a sore spot on her back, but she was soon lost in the magic of his mouth on her breast. She whimpered with pleasure, then felt him pull his mouth away. Dazed, she blinked at him as he looked at her with concern. Then he pulled her to her feet, turning the water on. “What’s the matter? Rupert?”
“We shouldn’t do this now, love, you’re hurt,” Rupert said as he looked at her, and winced when he took in the out lines of bruises and scrapes all over her white skin. The suds glistened as they slowly slid down her body, revealing more bruises. He choked back the anger and fear he felt as he remembered how she got them. Using one hand to close the shower curtains, he used the other to twist the shower knob on. Water softly pelted over them as he brought his hands on her bruised shoulders. “We-mrmph!”
His anger dissipated into the steam as Joyce ruthlessly plundered his mouth with her tongue. She pulled back when he started to take control of her heated kiss. Breathlessly, she peppered kisses all over his face. “Now, if you don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I want to, please?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” Rupert said as he held her still against his chest. “I might be too rough-“
“I’ll let you know if you hurt me,” Joyce said as she kissed his chest. Her hand cupped his hardness; the rough denim let her know how much he wanted her. He moaned as she lowered the zipper, reached in and stroked him. His eyes started to cross as her hand started to squeeze him. As he started to moan, she went down to her knees. He looked down at her, and she gave him an impish smile. “And you’re never too rough.”
He gave a low growl as Joyce took him into her mouth and her tongue swirled around the head of his cock. “Joyce-Baby-stop-let me-“
“Nope,” Joyce said as she popped him out of her mouth, and nuzzled his heavy sac. She nipped the tip of his manhood. “You didn’t want to, remember? So I’m going to.”
“Joyce,” Rupert moaned as she took him into her mouth again. He buried his hands into her wet hair and gritted his teeth as she nipped, sucked and teased him with her mouth. Pressure started to build in him, and then with a roar, he spilled himself into her mouth.
The water was cool as it pelted over his heated skin. As he leaned heavily against the cool tiles, he pulled Joyce off her knees and held her as she kissed his neck and chin. He opened his eyes and saw her satisfied cat smile. “Proud of yourself, are you, love?”
“Not me,” Joyce said demurely as she reached over to shut the water. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rubbing her chest against his, and sighed with pleasure. “All I did was get something to fill my stomach.”
“Is that right, love?” Rupert said as he nuzzled her temple. Using one hand to hold her steady, he pulled back the shower curtain with other hand, then grabbed a towel with it. As he started to drape the towel over her, his eyes caught the huge bruises just under her shoulder blades. He covered her shoulders with the towel as he gently lifted her out of the tub and put her to her feet. “Allow me to pamper the lady. May I dry you after your bath?”
“You may, kind sir,” Joyce giggled as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders again. She nipped his shoulder as he rubbed the towel gently all over her shoulders. “But only if I get to dry you.”
“And how is this supposed to be pampering you if you dry me?” Rupert asked as he rubbed the towel down her back, careful to not touch her bruises. He started to rub the ends of her hair with the towel, not an easy task since she was tugging at his jeans.
“Rupert? Do stop being logical,” Joyce admonished gently as she struggled with his clinging jeans. Frustrated at the stubbornness of the wet denim, she looked at him balefully. “And help me take this off.”
“You’re always trying to get me naked,” Rupert complained with a dramatic sigh as he pulled at his jeans. The stubborn, wet denim clung to his legs like an adhesive. With a muttered curse, he lowered the toilet seat cover and started to roll it down his legs. Finally, he managed to get it off, and then, breathing heavily, he kicked the wet pile into the tub. “Dratted thing.”
“Well, at least it’s off,” Joyce giggled as she came between his legs, dumped a towel on his head, and started to rub his hair dry. Her brown eyes glittered with amusement as she smiled down at him. “You really should be careful of that water sprite when you take a bath, Rupert.”
Pulling her closer, he started to nuzzle the valley between her breasts. “I usually am, darling. But like I said, she’s mischievous and…”
“And?” Joyce moaned as he started to suck at her breast. She let out a high whimper when she felt his fingers slip between her legs. Pleasure started to pool down to where his fingers touched her, then stopped. Dazed, she looked down at his grinning face. “Rupert?”
“And utterly playful,” he grinned as he forced her to step back by standing. Then he dashed out of the bathroom.
Stunned for a moment, Joyce bemusedly stared at the toilet seat, then ran out after him. “Rupert Giles! You tease! You come back here!”
As soon as he heard her come after him, Rupert pivoted to catch her. Her momentum threw them both on to the bed. For a second Joyce was sprawled on top of him, then he quickly changed their positions. She glared up at him with narrow eyes. “You tease!”
“Yes,” Rupert agreed as he kissed her nose. “Just like my insatiable water sprite, don’t you think?”
“No,” Joyce giggled as he nuzzled her neck. She sighed when he settled more comfortably on top of her. She touched his face, and a sudden bolt of fear went through her. “No more teasing, Rupert. Make love to me.”
He hissed with pleasure when he felt her wet heat envelope him. He opened his eyes to see her brown eyes closed with the pleasure he gave her. Her mouth opened and she mewled silently, happily when he slowly went deeper into her. She made him so strong. She made him feel safe. She made him feel alive. He needed her, more than he ever needed anyone in his life. Even Ethan. “Joyce, I love you. Deliriously.”
Joyce opened her eyes and smiled at the man she loved. Her heart turned upside down as she gazed at the only man who had ever held all the pieces of her heart. “And I love you, Rupert. Always.”
His mouth touched hers, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing him deeper. Rupert groaned loudly when her inner muscles contracted around him. He felt her nails dig into his skin when he gave a small thrust into her heat. Joyce gasped as a wave of need and ecstasy went through her. “More, Rupert, more.”
“God, yes!” Rupert groaned as he thrust deeper into her clinging heat. Her loud moans and mewls of pleasure spurred him on, he held her tighter, thrusting faster and faster into her. Vaguely, he remembered that there were guests in his home, and anger filled him as he remembered them. It meant that he couldn’t enjoy her cries of pleasure like he wanted to. So he clamped his mouth on hers, swallowing all her mewls of ecstasy, angered that he had to. Then her nails bit into his skin harder, and he lost all thought of his guests, and knew only her.
Drowning in ecstasy, Joyce was lost, she was always lost whenever he touched her. The man only had to look her way and she was ready to jump on his bones. His mouth clamped down on hers, and she knew he remembered something, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what. Then he thrust harder into her, and she couldn’t remember her name, only his.
So she clung on to him, her nails digging into his skin, her mouth sucking on his tongue, her inner walls clamping down on his hardness, anything to be used as an anchor against the harsh pleasure that was rushing through her. Then she felt his fingers tease her small nubbin, and suddenly, it was too much. Lightning bolts shot through her eyelids, screaming his name into his mouth. “Ruuuupppert!”
Still thrusting into her, he swallowed her scream as she convulsed around him. Spasms of pleasure ripped through him as he drove harder into her, her soft flesh giving way to his hard one. Suddenly, she ripped her mouth away from his, her eyes wild and her voice loud and breathless. “Come with me! Oh, GOD, Rupert, come with me!”
“Joyce-sss”, Rupert grunted as he thrust more into her, then lost it when she bit his shoulder. He drove one hard thrust into her and vaguely heard himself roar her name, mixing it with her scream as a bomb went off behind his eyes and he emptied himself into her.
“Joyce,” Rupert whispered when he came to, he was drained of all energy and still inside her. He tried to move off of her, but her arms and legs around his shoulders and waist tightened. He rolled over, careful to stay inside her. He used the last bit of his strength to pull the covers over them, and heard her hum with pleasure at the newly added warmth. He stroked her hair. “Rest.”
“Um-hmm,” Joyce said sleepily as she wrapped her arms around him more tightly and nuzzled his chest. She wanted to say something to him, but she couldn’t remember what it was. “Don’t go anywhere. Don’t leave me. I want to tell you something. Something important.”
“I won’t go anywhere, baby,” Rupert promised as he kissed her temple. He wrapped his arms around her torso. “I won’t leave you. And you can tell me in the morning.”
“Sounds good,” Joyce sighed sleepily. Then she remembered what she wanted to say to him. She lifted her head sleepily to look at him. “Now I remember, I might be safer with someone else, but I think I’d be less in love and not as happy. Understand?”
“Understood,” Rupert said as he put her head back down on his chest. He closed his eyes as he held her tighter. “Now go to sleep, love.”
“Okay,” Joyce said sleepily. Then the playful sprite inside her sprang up before she could tape it down. “I love you, Charles.”
Rupert’s eyes shot open. “Charles? Charles?!?”
He glowered down at her supposedly sleeping form, then he chuckled. “Go to sleep, sprite.”
“You, too,” Joyce giggled sleepily as she snuggled deeper into him, his chest hairs tickling her nose. She yawned, then kissed his chest. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone hurt you, darling.”
“My heroine,” muttered Rupert as he looked down at her with a smile. She giggled sleepily, and soon her breathing was steady. Only then he let himself fall asleep, feeling happy, loved, safe and most of all…alive.
