[ Her body accepts the metal plug as if she's made to do it, shiny and perfect against her skin. Giles rubs his thumb lightly over the pink heart-shaped jewel, then pushes it in a little deeper, ignoring the way she shudders and pleads with him. She'll get what she wants, Daddy's good girl, but she has to learn to wait for it, though it's as much a torture for himself as it is for her.
When she leans herself over the counter, he moves his hand from the plug to her ass cheek, spreading her a little to allow him to see everything. She's all soft skin, shades of dusky rose, glistening wet in a way that has nothing to do with her shower. His free hand is at his belt and undoing his fly before he knows it, though he doesn't do more than loosen things up, despite the way she moves back and forth. ]
Buffy. Look at you.
[ Awed, loving. He reaches up to take hold of her wrists, because she's got a good idea there -- she's small enough that he can stretch his hand and hold onto both of them at once -- and crouches down in the same movement, keeping his other hand spread wide over her ass cheek, all on show for him. No secrets; he knows and loves every inch of her body.
Gently, he kisses her skin, the curve of her backside, moving inwards. He dares to lick his tongue over the wetness of her cunt, lightly at first, enjoying the delicate salt and mineral taste. Then again, more firmly, lapping across her folds like he used to do to her mother. Joyce would clamp her thighs tight around his head and curse and writhe every time he did, delighted and wild, pulling on his hair and clothes. Buffy is an unanswered question, an unexplored territory, so he's more careful -- at least, at first. It doesn't take long until he's licking and sucking at her in earnest, his other hand keeping her pressed against the counter as he pushes his tongue between her inner lips, burying his face against her to lick over her clit again and again. ]
( it's relief, once he grabs her wrists. she doesn't have to think about what to do with her body, where she should be poised, how best to entice giles βΒ he moves her, even if she reacts shyly about it, spread open and squirming, feeling more than seeing his gaze. watching what? her naughty body clenching on the unusual invasion, cunt dripping because she's a dirty girl who likes it βΒ being opened up, flushed under her daddy's attention, her favorite drug of choice.
when she hears the sound of his trousers, she's pretty sure she knows what happens next, shoulders flexing with anticipation, only β he moves downwards, totally nonsensical, her brain too slow to play catch up by the time he's licking at her, a shocked, guttural sound ripping out of her throat. )
Oh my,Β fuckβingβ
( it's not something she indulges in a lot, being a natural born people pleaser on the one hand, and being uninterested in connections beyond shallow hookups on the other. it strikes her that it isn't the case with giles β possibly the most intimate relationship she'll ever have given everything, and so why shouldn't he have this? she's nervous all of a sudden, worried about holding a candle to all the other good girls he has in his phone, a truth she won't be quick to forget. except βΒ except it's hard to think after a beat, giles' tongue between her legs, showing off just how wet she got while he fingered her ass. her head rolls, forehead pressed to the marble, stomach flexing hard against the counter, arms instinctively fight though not very hard against his grip. just take it, the position seems to say, and she does. don't think.
already primed for an orgasm it's almost painful when it rips through her, crying out with puffy breaths, legs kicking before her knees give out, supported instead by the counter digging into her hips. her unhappy cunt keeps clenching on the nothing inside it, but it's the same muscles clenching on the plug which prolong her orgasm, swerving her ass back to search for anything on giles to grind back on wildly, wanting to push the plug deeper in her. wanting anything to be fucking her right now, in any hole, with any tool. )
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no subject
When she leans herself over the counter, he moves his hand from the plug to her ass cheek, spreading her a little to allow him to see everything. She's all soft skin, shades of dusky rose, glistening wet in a way that has nothing to do with her shower. His free hand is at his belt and undoing his fly before he knows it, though he doesn't do more than loosen things up, despite the way she moves back and forth. ]
Buffy. Look at you.
[ Awed, loving. He reaches up to take hold of her wrists, because she's got a good idea there -- she's small enough that he can stretch his hand and hold onto both of them at once -- and crouches down in the same movement, keeping his other hand spread wide over her ass cheek, all on show for him. No secrets; he knows and loves every inch of her body.
Gently, he kisses her skin, the curve of her backside, moving inwards. He dares to lick his tongue over the wetness of her cunt, lightly at first, enjoying the delicate salt and mineral taste. Then again, more firmly, lapping across her folds like he used to do to her mother. Joyce would clamp her thighs tight around his head and curse and writhe every time he did, delighted and wild, pulling on his hair and clothes. Buffy is an unanswered question, an unexplored territory, so he's more careful -- at least, at first. It doesn't take long until he's licking and sucking at her in earnest, his other hand keeping her pressed against the counter as he pushes his tongue between her inner lips, burying his face against her to lick over her clit again and again. ]
no subject
when she hears the sound of his trousers, she's pretty sure she knows what happens next, shoulders flexing with anticipation, only β he moves downwards, totally nonsensical, her brain too slow to play catch up by the time he's licking at her, a shocked, guttural sound ripping out of her throat. )
Oh my,Β fuckβingβ
( it's not something she indulges in a lot, being a natural born people pleaser on the one hand, and being uninterested in connections beyond shallow hookups on the other. it strikes her that it isn't the case with giles β possibly the most intimate relationship she'll ever have given everything, and so why shouldn't he have this? she's nervous all of a sudden, worried about holding a candle to all the other good girls he has in his phone, a truth she won't be quick to forget. except βΒ except it's hard to think after a beat, giles' tongue between her legs, showing off just how wet she got while he fingered her ass. her head rolls, forehead pressed to the marble, stomach flexing hard against the counter, arms instinctively fight though not very hard against his grip. just take it, the position seems to say, and she does. don't think.
already primed for an orgasm it's almost painful when it rips through her, crying out with puffy breaths, legs kicking before her knees give out, supported instead by the counter digging into her hips. her unhappy cunt keeps clenching on the nothing inside it, but it's the same muscles clenching on the plug which prolong her orgasm, swerving her ass back to search for anything on giles to grind back on wildly, wanting to push the plug deeper in her. wanting anything to be fucking her right now, in any hole, with any tool. )