“So,” Ethan said, the moment they were through the door, flowing up to him like an amoeba, “I believe you said something about a ‘talk’?”
His hands fisted in Rupert’s shirt, his lips close enough to dance over Rupert’s.
“You know,” Rupert said, even as his body stirred, even as his hand settled on Ethan’s waist, “Most people don’t view that as an invitation.”
The gap between them vanished, and Ethan’s kiss was hot and insistent. Rupert let himself be nudged back against the door, let Ethan’s talented tongue work its magic. Teasing light over his lips, tracing the tip of his own tongue. Ethan’s hand moved down his chest, his own ran up Ethan’s back.
Pleasant swelling heat between his legs, and then Ethan’s hand was there, light and familiar and so good, just what he wanted at that moment. That hand that knew him nearly as well as his own, the touch that he’d loved for over half his life.
For the first time that day, he felt like a human being again, not a bloodless, lifeless librarian.
“Come now, I know you want to show me the error of my ways.”
He opened his eyes to see the wicked sparkle in Ethan’s. Knew that Ethan was trying to provoke his inner thug, but couldn’t, at that moment, find it in him to rise to the occasion. Felt, in fact, a small smile on his face, and dropped his head back against the door. Ethan’s hand was still on him, stroking him, and it felt just far too good to even pretend he was angry. Or even mildly put off.
Ethan shook his head, but looked fond.
“You’re becoming quite the sap in your age.”
“Mmm,” Rupert said, close as he could get to purring. “Don’t stop.”
Which was the wrong thing to say, because naturally, Ethan stopped. Ah, and there was some of that annoyance he’d been searching for.
So, just to be spiteful, he brushed past Ethan and headed for the kitchen.
“Dinner first.”
***
After dinner, as he was putting away the last of the dishes and Ethan was incredibly helpfully watching him put away the dishes, Rupert said, “If you want me to spank you, you only have to ask, you know. We could skip the whole part where you piss me off.”
“Pissing you off is half the fun, love,” he said, with the air of a patient parent telling a toddler the truth he already knew.
Rupert sighed.
“I was afraid of that.”
And then, operating on element of surprise, he caught Ethan’s arm and turned him and thumped him against the counter.
“Ow,” Ethan said. Grinning.
“Oh, no,” Rupert said, draped over Ethan’s back, hands busy with Ethan’s belt and button and fly, “We haven’t gotten to ‘ow’ yet.”
Ethan wriggled happily against him and he found himself smiling rather soppily again. And not just because Ethan’s wriggling felt extremely pleasant. He rested a bit of his weight over Ethan, just to feel his back against his chest. Turned his head and nuzzled at the base of his ponytail, breathing the scent of him.
Then he stepped back and pushed Ethan’s trousers down around his knees.
“Now,” he said, “About-- whatever the hell it was you did this time.”
“Failed to treat your Slayer’s peril with the proper gravity.”
“Right. Yes, that.” He took a moment to consider Ethan’s lovely bare arse, then said, “I’d tell you to never let it happen again, but as I’m already quite aware that would be pointless...”
He brought his hand down. Crack of flesh on flesh, bright heat in his palm. Ethan flinched so prettily. Always had.
He dropped three more blows in quick succession. His breath came a bit quicker as he eased into the game. Ethan squirmed and leaned. The heat in his hand echoed the growing heat spreading through his whole body.
Then Ethan made a soft sound, almost a whimper. Needy. Hot.
Now, Rupert found a rhythm. Landing each blow and waiting just long enough for the bright heat to spread and tingle before the next fell. It was easy to get lost in. His cock throbbing, his mind focused, reveling in Ethan’s every twitch and moan. In the pink in his arse cheeks and the growing warmth of his skin.
Beautiful. God, so beautiful.
And then Ethan shifted his feet a bit further apart, and groaned, “Ripper.”
Old nickname, that they only ever used at moments like this now.
And then--shit, where was the nearest--
“Back of the silverware drawer,” Ethan said.
Rupert rolled his eyes heavenward, but then decided he was too glad it was there to say much. And by the time he was gently teasing Ethan with a slick finger, he was very nearly convinced that keeping lube in one’s silverware drawer was a brilliant idea.
“Rupert, please,” Ethan said, rocking his hips back.
“Patience, dear.”
His free hand took the scenic route up to the nape of Ethan’s neck, passing over his flank and ribs and the dip between his shoulder blades. Rupert tugged the band out of Ethan’s hair, let it fall free around his shoulders.
Only then did he step up close.
Sliding into him still felt something like coming home.
Ethan gave up on staying bent over the counter. Stood up straight and leaned back into him. Dropped his head back on Rupert’s shoulder the first time Rupert slowly pressed back into him.
Perfectly positioned for Rupert to wrap his arms around him, hold him close, turn his head and find his throat with his lips and his tongue.
Slow and sensual.
Soft grunts and fast breath, and the wet sound of lips meeting and parting. Ethan had been holding out on him since they came to Sunnydale--probably suffering from it more than Rupert had been--but that only made this reconnection sweeter. More intense.
“God. Ripper. Oh, fuck.”
Neither of them lasted long, but neither of them cared.
The End
previous | title page | next