January 2007
250 words
For Mireille
* * *
Xander leaned against the brick wall, panting. "That was--"
He tried to find a word that would work but every single one his brain
came up with sounded like an understatement.
"Yes," Giles said, slightly out of breath. "It was."
Xander smiled and chuckled. He zipped himself up, watching Giles try to put his own clothes back together, and failing completely at looking proper. Giles looked dazed and fucked, and--totally hot. "So that's what's hiding under the tweed, huh?"
With a grin, Giles sat close to Xander and put a hand on his knee. "Yes, exactly," he said, his breathing still erratic. "Perhaps we should--move this to a less public area?"
Xander took Giles' hand in his and squeezed. "If you're thinking what I'm thinking, then lets go, Captain."
Giles laughed and then sighed, stealing a glance at Xander. "I'm not quite sure I follow you, but I'll take this as a positive answer."
"You mean yes, right? Cause it was yes. As long as it involves you, me, and a bed. Or, you know, a couch or a table or a floor, whichever furniture you want me on, I'm easy."
Giles' laughter echoed in the alley this time, and he scrambled to his knees and then his feet. "Yes, I can see it won't take much convincing. Come on then."
Xander followed Giles away with a grin, because oh my dear God in heaven that had seriously been the best blow job ever.