The London Sonnets

Spoilers: Anything through Buffy S4 is fair game.
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Property of Joss and ME. Just playing.
Summary: All good things must come to an end.
A/N: Follows To Take A New Acquaintance Of Thy Mind. The title is taken from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 107. And another mini-series in the verse comes to a close. But the journey is far, faaaaar from over. A huge thank you to Savvy who kept me going and making me have faith in the direction the characters wanted to go. Hm, I wonder what the OT3 will have to face in S5… As always, for previous installments of the Menageaverse, please visit our website at www.responsibleadults.sadbhyl.riverworld.net.

As was often the case, Ethan had slipped out in the middle of the night. He had stayed through one night. Two in a row, that was asking too much.

Giles’ sleep-clouded eyes landed on the bedside clock, neon green numbers proclaiming the hour far too early to be awake, especially when one took into account how little sleep they had had. Unfortunately, if he and Joyce didn’t get up soon, they would most likely miss their flight. But he wasn’t altogether certain that would be a bad thing. Returning to Sunnydale would mean returning to stolen moments and secret meetings. While there was a certain amount of excitement to be had in sneaking around, he had grown used to the openness they had enjoyed in London. Going out without fear of bumping into Buffy or the others. Being able to wake up next to Joyce every morning. It was how things were supposed to be in a relationship—the ability to be with each other and not fear getting caught and having to explain what was going on. It had been nice not to have to worry.

He curled close around Joyce’s still slumbering form. It was no wonder she was sound asleep, considering all that had taken place over the last couple days. Giles was surprised he was awake, let alone could move after nearly a day and a half of near constant sexual activity. He was surprised Agnes hadn’t stopped by with any complaints. It was fortunate they had had the foresight to keep some food in the room.

And Ethan had actually stayed through the night. Giles hadn’t woken up next to Ethan since, well, the day of Randall’s death. That was a pleasant thought, wasn’t it? He nuzzled against Joyce’s neck, inhaling her scent, driving the memories of that time away. There was no reason to be thinking about that now. Things had changed, moved on. He and Ethan were different people now. And the sun rose in the west. Deep down they were inherently the same. Maybe a little older, a little wiser, but who they were then was still part of who they were—Shit! Goddamn Ethan had been right.

Joyce shifted, pressing back into him. Oh, right, not supposed to be thinking on that, was he. Giles began to stroke softly across Joyce’s breasts and stomach, eliciting a quiet mewl of pleasure. This was a much better way to occupy himself. And if he distracted her long enough they might just miss that plane and—

The alarm clock clicked on with an air-raid caliber beep.

The woman who had been mostly asleep the moment before shot up into a sitting position, head darting from side to side, seeking out the source of noise. Giles had the feeling that many of the reflexes Buffy had were inherited, not slayer-given.

Joyce reached over him and shut the machine off and looked down at him puzzled. “When did we get an alarm clock?”

He groaned when the realization hit him. Not once in their stay there had he noticed a clock on the bedside table, because there hadn’t been one there. Until this morning. “Bloody Ethan. I’m going to kill him.”

Joyce laughed. “I think it’s sweet. He wanted to make sure we didn’t oversleep and miss the plane.”

“And that is the reason why I am going to kill him,” he grumbled.

She leaned down and kissed him then, causing his annoyance to fade. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled so he was on top.

“Any chance I could convince you that we have plenty of time?” he kissed lightly along her throat.

“Mm, I would love to have you try, Rupert,” replied breathily, “but—”

He cut her off, capturing her lips with his own. “No buts.”

“Rupert,” her tone, while light, had a hint of mom in it.

“Yes, dear,” he rolled away. And then, with a touch of bitterness he didn’t intend. “Wouldn’t want the children to get suspicious, would we.”

“Rupert, you know why—”

“I know,” he looked at her. “It’s just that things have been nice this week, being free to enjoy each other and not have to worry about getting caught.”

She smiled understandingly, “It really has. And maybe it is time we told them, but I’m not ready for them to know. I kind of like having this all to myself. I c I could hope for things to go half as well as they did with Spike, well . . .”

“Wait, what?” he stared at her in shock.

Joyce blinked, cheeks coloring in embarrassment. “Oh, right. Um . . .”

“Joyce.”

“He really figured it out for himself. I came downstairs one night and caught him raiding your kitchen,” she said simply. “I invited him over the next night and discussed things with him. Made sure he would keep quiet.”

“And he agreed to that?” Giles had trouble believing that. And if Spike had caught Joyce at his place that meant he had known for several months about things and hadn’t once . . . “Oh, that makes so much more sense now.”

She looked at him, confused.

“It wasn’t too long after I found you the morning after Ethan . . . and just before Buffy, Xander, Willow, and I took on Adam. Spike was trying to pit us against each other and he said some things that, had I not been drunk beyond all sense, might have clicked sooner,” he sighed. “How ever did you get him to never mention it?”

She shrugged. “I make really good hot chocolate, I guess.”

“There might be hope for Spike yet,” he chuckled, still not quite believing it.

“I think he could be a powerful ally if you gave him half a chance.”

“Joyce, he’s—”

“Evil. I know,” she rolled her eyes in a gesture reminiscent of her daughter. Then serious, “But you’ve given Ethan a chance.”

She had him there. He wanted to protest that it was different with Ethan because he knew him and . . . In truth, Ethan had likely done things as worse if not more so than Spike ever had.

Joyce was out of the bed and halfway to the bathroom by the time he worked things out.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” she asked, a playful half-smile teasing at her lips.

As if she needed to ask.

***

The plane ride was uneventful and passed far too quickly for Giles’ tastes. It was shortly before five in the afternoon when he pulled up in front of the house on Revello Drive. He reluctantly put the car into park and turned it off, wincing at the clunking it made as he did so.

“You really should think about getting a new car,” Joyce said conversationally. “I’m surprised this one still runs.”

He patted the faithful Citroen lovingly. “She’s seen me through quite a bit.”

“A few demon chases and last minute saves?”

“For starters.”

“You know,” she considered, “you should look into getting a convertible.”

“A convertible?”

She nodded. “No better place than California to have one. Plus I’m sure it can reach some pretty high speeds. All the better to chase and save with.”

“There’s no particular reason you want me to get a convertible, is there?” he asked suspiciously.

“A retractable roof can come in handy for certain things,” she said innocently.

Could come in handy . . . Joyce bathed in moonlight, breasts pale and glistening pale as she rose above him—

“So you’ll think about it?” She was grinning, hand teasing lightly across evidence of just how much thought he needed to give to the subject.

“I think the choice has already been made,” he said, voice low and rough.

She kissed him quick and then got out of the car. Ducking her head down, she asked, “Want to give me a hand with my bags?”

Taking a deep breath, Giles got out of the car, hoping against hope that no one was home at the Summers’ residence and wouldn’t be for some time.

He needn’t have worried. The note Joyce found in the kitchen made him a very happy man.

Mom,

Thought you might want to catch up on your sleep. I’m staying at Riley’s tonight and tomorrow he’s taking me up to Dad’s to pick up Dawn. I hope you had a good trip.

Buffy

P.S. Did you pick up those new Docs I wanted?

Giles set the note carefully aside and pulled Joyce to him. “What do you say we go catch up on our sleep?”

“Sleep, hm?” she arched a brow. “Are you sure it’s sleep you have in mind?”

Kissing along her jaw line, “Eventually,” he murmured. Then, in one smooth movement, he swept her up into his arms and made his way toward the stairs. He kissed her as they ascended to the second floor and didn’t stop until he set Joyce on her bed.

He knelt before her in simple supplication. Slipping her right shoe off, Giles began to press his fingers firmly into the sole of her foot, working it over thoroughly before turning his attention to her left.

Joyce leaned back with a happy sigh. “You don’t know how wonderful that feels.”

“Just wait,” he smiled, moving up to her calves. Seeing her breathing slow, he protested, “Joyce!”

Her head popped up and she blinked, “Hm?”

“But you can’t fall asleep on me.”

“No sleep. Right,” she agreed, eyes closing as she laid back down again.

Well, if she did fall asleep, Giles didn’t think waking her up would be an unpleasant experience. It hadn’t been so far.

He reached her thighs, pushing the fabric of her skirt up to allow easier access as he kneaded her muscles, applying constant and firm pressure. He progressed by slow degrees, paying equal attention to each muscle. Reaching the tops of her thighs, he slid her simple cotton underwear down and off before continuing. His thumbs worked in gentle circles, between labia and across her clit, subtly building her arousal.

“If you ‘one more time’ me, Rupert, I will kill you,” Joyce said heavily.

What was she—ah, Ethan and his Tantric massage. Giles was surprised at how little jealousy the thought evoked. “Not today,” was all he replied.

Soon, her breathing became ragged. “Want you,” she managed, lifting her head.

“After,” he said, keeping the steady rhythm.

“Now,” she commanded.

There was the steely edge that brooked no argument. And, he realized, he whole-heartedly agreed.

Giles stood and undressed, Joyce doing the same.

“Come to me,” she said, holding out her hand.

Taking it, he went, carefully moving over her. Slender fingers wrapped around his shaft, guiding him in, guiding him home. Giles sighed as Joyce’s legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him in a little further.

She looked up at him, eyes bright and dilated wide. As he began to rock, her eyes fluttered closed.

“Joyce, don’t,” he whispered, trailing his free hand along her brow. “I want you to see.”

Her eyes opened, locking on his, never wavering.

He realized all too soon what a dangerous game it was to look in your lover’s eyes as you made love to them. There was a connection, an intensity that wasn’t there otherwise.

So beautiful and accepting and amazing. Was it any wonder he loved her?

It was on the tip of his tongue to say the words, but Giles bit them back. No, it wasn’t the right time. He knew she wasn’t ready for that yet. It could wait.

Instead, Giles breathed a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Welcome, always,” she smiled.

Someday he would say the words. But not today. This was enough and they had time.