It was sticking up, stiff and out of place, jarringly so. Giles didn’t even think about what he did next, not really. He walked towards Xander, his hand reached out casually, and his fingers took hold and brushed skin. Xander’s body felt good against his knuckles, smooth and warm, and this close the smell of him, indefinable and faint as it was, made Giles stumble in his stride so that when he tucked the label in on Xander’s shirt, his fingers slid down a little farther than he’d intended.
Giles tightened and expanded his grip so that he was holding Xander by the scruff of his neck and pulled him around, half-choking him, bending over enough to kiss that mouth, opened by surprise before his tongue could do it for him. It took one, two, three heartbeats for Xander to kiss back, for Giles’ grip to slacken and his hand slip free so that he could move it to cup the back of Xander’s head, holding him still as his other hand dropped, unerringly accurate, to where Xander was beginning to swell with need, his cock growing under Giles’ demanding, hasty touches.
Then Giles had only to straighten and unzip and Xander’s mouth would be –
“Xander,” Willow said, fondly scolding. “Do you dress in the dark, or something? Label!” She tucked it in with deft fingers and turned to smile at Giles. “All done with that book, Giles? Shall I shelve it for you?”
Giles, jerked abruptly out of his daydream, smiled uncomfortably at them both and murmured, “I’ll be in my office.”
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