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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