Rating: R
Author: Trekker
Pairing: Giles/Ethan
Fandom: Buffy
A heavy beat, a crowd that moves to music. Five to one, the men to women. Thomas left, as did the others. Ethan didn’t. Ripper didn’t. Good hash, and bass enough to drive it all away, those thoughts, those feelings that he’d rather not be having.
The flat is hot and packed with people, wall to wall. He doesn’t dance, though Ethan does.
He sits and smokes, although the couch is crowded. They were merely groping when he claimed the seat, but now they’re fucking. Ripper doesn’t care. It seems that neither do they, since her skull is pressed against his hip. There’s moans and grunts and gasps. Their rocking rhythm echoes through his thigh and strokes his cock.
He glances left.
A boy, against the wall. His head is back, his mouth open. Another boy, between his legs, who pulls his head away. Saliva shines. His hand, between the other’s legs, is stroking.
Ripper watches.
Groaning, the girl is arching back, her skull is pressing him.
”Shit,” her lover says, and fucks her hard.
She flails above her head, her fingers bump against him, along his body. Nipples, stomach, cock. She doesn’t realize. The hand is gone a heartbeat later, reaching up to touch her lover.
Ethan drops from nowhere, and wobbles on the couch’s arm. Almost instinctively, Ripper steadies him. He’s hot under his hand, and wet with sweat. He takes the touch as invitation, falls in Ripper’s lap and snakes his arms around his shoulders.
Loose with dance and drugs, he’s all affection, glitter, sarcasm and love. He arcs his neatly maintained brow, amused, and Ripper glances briefly at the lovers, then he looks to Ethan. Rhythm of sex still nudging him.
He sinks his hands in Ethan’s hair and pulls him down to kiss.
He’s hard, and Ethan’s hand is reaching down already, finding where he wants it most. He groans and moves against the touch. And when his head drops against the couch’s back, he glances left again, and finds the boy is watching him, his hips are rocking, fucking.
But then Ethan is kissing him, and nothing else is even half so fascinating. Sweaty back beneath his hand. He pushes into the hand that’s gripping him, and he moans again. Still he feels the eyes on him.
He says, “Oh, Ethan. Yes,” and then he grasps for Ethan’s cock, and presses palm to hardness.
Loves to feel his lover groan, and move, and whisper dirty words. The music pulses on, as they are slowly pulled toward the edge. The girl, beside them, is panting hard. The couch is shaking under them.
The boy, the one who’s left of him, he comes, and curses when he does.
The pleasure echoes, and Ripper thrusts up hard, and shouts. He feels the heat spread, but doesn’t care. He hears the girl--she gasps--and feels her shudder. Feels her come.
He moves his hand, as fast as Ethan likes it. Smiles as Ethan jolts against him.
Ethan comes, and falls across him, limbs askew and trembling. Ripper grips him, shifts him just enough so he’s not lying on the girl.
Then holds him, lets the music lull them both.
The End