I know you do. Thank you for telling me, though now I'm worried that you might have gone ahead with it without letting me know. Do you actually want to do it or do you just want me to give you attention? Because you know you have that anyway, no matter what. You're the most important girl for me.
[ If he wanted to, he knows he could go and find her. He could search the house and track her down to where she's training in the gym or the ice rink or relaxing with her friends. He could pull her away with a father's propriety, get her to shove down her shorts or lift her skirt and open herself to him, sweat-damp or protesting the entire time until he slips his fingers into her along with the plug right there, where anyone might walk in --
He considers it, very thoroughly indeed, but in the end he decides to wait, hard and wanting and obsessed with his own desire. He hasn't felt like this for years; it makes him feel young and stupid. Very stupid, considering what they're doing, but he can't help himself. He wants her very badly. Pleasing Buffy at last, finding something he can do to make her want to be with him more than she wants to push him away -- it answers something in him that's been waiting for longer than he knows. He's not foolish enough to believe it's healing for either of them, but it's surely something good. And it can't go on forever. Just while they're at Saltburn, a brief indulgence, where they can find each other again and maybe this way he'll finally understand his brilliant and fierce daughter. So he'll wait a few hours for it to be perfect.
Everything they need is already in the bathroom by the time she returns. Giles insists that she has some privacy and gives her some time to clean up while he tries and fails to read a book in his room, stroking himself through his trousers to the sound of the shower running and what he imagines she's doing. And then he can't stand it any longer, stepping into the steamy room, breath catching at the sight of her.
And then it's surprisingly easy. Up against the counter, standing behind Buffy and opening her up with two fingers liberally coated with lube, pressing slippery circles over her skin, murmuring her name, calling her a good girl and kissing her damp hair, working into her body until she's panting and gasping and asking for more. Then he lines up the plug, heavy in his palm, and starts to ease it into her, making eye contact with her in the steam-smeared mirror. ]
Just like that, you see? [ He can't hide the raw note in his voice or the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her. ] How does that feel?
( buffy has to stop herself from running home immediately — daddys are important, but so are the olympics, and those are the two great loves of her life. there has to be a balance.
she still thinks about him the whole time she's practicing, imagining his thumbs digging into her bruises, prolonging an ache. when it hurts, she pushes herself harder, because she knows whatever giles intends for her will feel that much better in comparison to the pain, and at heart she's a masochist, who likes it unapologetically. when she manages to get herself back to their rooms, she thinks about him through her shower too, scrubbing off the sweat of all her effort, the perpetual slick between her legs. exercise has her muscles all sore and achey, and anticipation has them drawn up tense. she thinks for a flatlining second about eating an edible just to calm down, before deciding that'll get her into the wrong kind of trouble with her dad. getting off? much better, and not at all difficult when she's this wet thinking about giles thinking about her, sweaty forehead against the glass of the shower, grinding her clit against her fingers until she orgasms with a few pitiful rolls of her hips.
if she was anyone else, one orgasm might be enough to satiate her. unfortunately, she's greedy, starving buffy — it barely takes the edge off. good timing for giles to come in, when she's standing naked in front of the mirror, rubbing on lotion her mother used to wear, smearing pink lip gloss from a squeeze tube onto her mouth. just getting clean, she offers, pressing her dirty fingertips into his mouth. in another second she's bent over the counter, slapping her hand against the mirror to wipe away the steam, watching giles watch her, grinning a little. it's so nice when you get the things you want.
the smile is gone pretty quickly. it's not difficult to tease buffy — a touch in and she's already whining for it, pouting, tilting her hips to entice him. giles doesn't rush anything, because he's evil — acclimating her to the touch she instinctively flinches and hides away from, until she's pressing back into him, babbling, begging for more. if it hurts, it's only for a second, and only because it's strange — giles soothes it out like a massage, opening up her body for him, cooing praise against her. she could come again — like this, barely any effort, a knuckle brush against her clit. it never comes, so she just whines more and more desperately, slick enough to wet her inner thighs, dripping like a perfectly ripe fruit. )
Ah — uh-huh. ( she loses whatever fight she was putting forward in holding herself up once the plug pushes into her, halving down to lay her chest on the counter, cheek on the steam warmed marble. she's up on her tiptoes, arching her back as best she can, presenting, enticing, doing whatever she can. ) Feels good, Daddy. ( occasionally she musters up some amount of shame, but she can't right now, while her brain is showering in horny bathwater. instinctively, she tucks both her hands behind her back, wrists crossed, pining herself down whether or not giles gets the picture. she bends up one leg to try and nudge him, but it ends up more flailing, a chemical reaction, like getting kissed for the first time. ) Wanna come. Are you gonna — will you f-fuck me with it in? Please. Aren't I being so, so good?
( seemingly, she answers her own question by swaying her ass, nudging into his cock. no, definitely not. )
[ 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 — 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 — 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 — 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, fuck—ing—
( 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 — 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 — 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. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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in theory
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[ Buffy. ]
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are you kidding? of course i want to. i wouldn't agree if i didn't want to.
i want to do everything with you, daddy.
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I'll bring you your present later.
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He considers it, very thoroughly indeed, but in the end he decides to wait, hard and wanting and obsessed with his own desire. He hasn't felt like this for years; it makes him feel young and stupid. Very stupid, considering what they're doing, but he can't help himself. He wants her very badly. Pleasing Buffy at last, finding something he can do to make her want to be with him more than she wants to push him away -- it answers something in him that's been waiting for longer than he knows. He's not foolish enough to believe it's healing for either of them, but it's surely something good. And it can't go on forever. Just while they're at Saltburn, a brief indulgence, where they can find each other again and maybe this way he'll finally understand his brilliant and fierce daughter. So he'll wait a few hours for it to be perfect.
Everything they need is already in the bathroom by the time she returns. Giles insists that she has some privacy and gives her some time to clean up while he tries and fails to read a book in his room, stroking himself through his trousers to the sound of the shower running and what he imagines she's doing. And then he can't stand it any longer, stepping into the steamy room, breath catching at the sight of her.
And then it's surprisingly easy. Up against the counter, standing behind Buffy and opening her up with two fingers liberally coated with lube, pressing slippery circles over her skin, murmuring her name, calling her a good girl and kissing her damp hair, working into her body until she's panting and gasping and asking for more. Then he lines up the plug, heavy in his palm, and starts to ease it into her, making eye contact with her in the steam-smeared mirror. ]
Just like that, you see? [ He can't hide the raw note in his voice or the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her. ] How does that feel?
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she still thinks about him the whole time she's practicing, imagining his thumbs digging into her bruises, prolonging an ache. when it hurts, she pushes herself harder, because she knows whatever giles intends for her will feel that much better in comparison to the pain, and at heart she's a masochist, who likes it unapologetically. when she manages to get herself back to their rooms, she thinks about him through her shower too, scrubbing off the sweat of all her effort, the perpetual slick between her legs. exercise has her muscles all sore and achey, and anticipation has them drawn up tense. she thinks for a flatlining second about eating an edible just to calm down, before deciding that'll get her into the wrong kind of trouble with her dad. getting off? much better, and not at all difficult when she's this wet thinking about giles thinking about her, sweaty forehead against the glass of the shower, grinding her clit against her fingers until she orgasms with a few pitiful rolls of her hips.
if she was anyone else, one orgasm might be enough to satiate her. unfortunately, she's greedy, starving buffy — it barely takes the edge off. good timing for giles to come in, when she's standing naked in front of the mirror, rubbing on lotion her mother used to wear, smearing pink lip gloss from a squeeze tube onto her mouth. just getting clean, she offers, pressing her dirty fingertips into his mouth. in another second she's bent over the counter, slapping her hand against the mirror to wipe away the steam, watching giles watch her, grinning a little. it's so nice when you get the things you want.
the smile is gone pretty quickly. it's not difficult to tease buffy — a touch in and she's already whining for it, pouting, tilting her hips to entice him. giles doesn't rush anything, because he's evil — acclimating her to the touch she instinctively flinches and hides away from, until she's pressing back into him, babbling, begging for more. if it hurts, it's only for a second, and only because it's strange — giles soothes it out like a massage, opening up her body for him, cooing praise against her. she could come again — like this, barely any effort, a knuckle brush against her clit. it never comes, so she just whines more and more desperately, slick enough to wet her inner thighs, dripping like a perfectly ripe fruit. )
Ah — uh-huh. ( she loses whatever fight she was putting forward in holding herself up once the plug pushes into her, halving down to lay her chest on the counter, cheek on the steam warmed marble. she's up on her tiptoes, arching her back as best she can, presenting, enticing, doing whatever she can. ) Feels good, Daddy. ( occasionally she musters up some amount of shame, but she can't right now, while her brain is showering in horny bathwater. instinctively, she tucks both her hands behind her back, wrists crossed, pining herself down whether or not giles gets the picture. she bends up one leg to try and nudge him, but it ends up more flailing, a chemical reaction, like getting kissed for the first time. ) Wanna come. Are you gonna — will you f-fuck me with it in? Please. Aren't I being so, so good?
( seemingly, she answers her own question by swaying her ass, nudging into his cock. no, definitely not. )
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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 — 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, fuck—ing—
( 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 — 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 — 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. )