soft_princess arranged a drabble-o-thon, to mark the one year anniversary of her wonderful G/X site No One Knows. The premise was to pick a word from her list and write a G/X drabble using that word in some way.

I picked 'restless' and while this is a little different then I'd intended, I like it.

500 words, G/X ficlet . . . um, NC-17 :-)

ETA: That I am a horrible, horrible person, who should be dragged out and shot. ::sigh:: I completely forgot to mention the wonderful insto-beta by ladygaladriel04 Sorry, LG! I don't know what's wrong with my brain these days!


Speechless


It used to be that, after everyone had gone, Giles would feel restless. He'd roam the flat, making changes in the placement of this statue, or those books.

Now he sits, tense in that lovely way that makes one's stomach flip. The knock comes precisely on time. Xander is fidgeting by the time he opens the door. Giles isn't sure if the boy believes he won't answer tonight. They never talk about that.

Giles has Xander in his hands before the door shuts, shoving at his shirt, pinning him to the wall. Their lips meet, Xander whimpering impatiently, thrusting his hips.

He should take it slow this time, but he can't help himself. The first time, it started with an argument and...it was understandable that they hadn't been in a gentle mood. Now, though, he should take his time, let his fingers brush over the boy's skin, let his lips linger.

It's not going to happen.

Xander makes little sounds, breathy gasps in this throat that drive out all thought of slowing down. Instead, he presses harder, bites at the boy's lower lip, pinches nipples almost to the point of pain. All just to get more of those sounds.

Xander's hands are on him too; eager, warm hands that all but brand him as the boy tugs him closer, thrusts his hips to get more friction.

They're not even going to make it upstairs.

"Couch," Giles pants, pointing Xander in that direction and nearly laughing as the boy tries to run to the sofa and undress at the same time.

He isn't any better. Grabbing the lube and condoms from a draw in his desk--he's learned to keep them close to hand--Giles is naked by the time he gets to Xander.

His breath catches. Xander is kneeling on the couch, his back to Giles, half bent over the back. He presses against the boy, leaning low over his back to lick and bite down Xander's spine. Giles has his cock in a condom and lubricated in record time. His hands settle on the boy's hips, gripping hard.

There's no slowing down, little preparation. Neither of them cares.

Giles slams into Xander's tight channel, the shock forcing a hoarse groan from the boy's throat. He wraps a firm hand around Xander's throbbing prick, his cock buried deep.

He pounds into Xander, the clench and ripple of the boy's muscles hauling him closer to the edge. It's only luck that has the boy coming before him, as there's little finesse involved.

Giles shouts out his own orgasm, pumping frantically into the boy. Xander moans as Giles pulls out, falling bonelessly onto the couch. Giles takes a moment to throw away the condom before joining him, both speechless as they catch their breath.

Xander snuggles against him. Giles lets a smile curve his lips, his eyes drift closed. He knows the boy won't be there when he wakes up, he never is. Maybe tomorrow he'll talk to Xander about that.