The Lust Temptation of Rupert Giles
He was supposed to be a model of stoicism, setting the others a good example, but since this musical spell had arrived and infected Sunnydale, Giles had found himself hornier than a Chaos demon's cranium. Now it seemed like any innocent thing could send his thoughts plunging down to the sleaziest slimiest dirtiest depths of sexual depravity, from the Olivio spread on his kitchen table (that reminded him of a time with Olivia) to the well-fingered calendar on his desk (that reminded him of many times with Jenny). He'd tried cold shower upon cold shower but all that seemed to do was shrink his 'little librarian' even further, although that was far preferable to giving in to his desires and risk transforming it into a towering inferno.
Now, in the training room at the Magic Box, Giles felt nostalgic as he held a giant piece of wood between his hands, but then Buffy's booted stiletto heel smashed into it, breaking it in two. It seemed to Giles like some strange kind of metaphor.
"Good. Good," he said, as he looked at the shattered plank on the ground, trying to avert his eyes from Buffy and what she was wearing. Yesterday's schoolgirl outfit had been bad enough, but now she sported a red leather outfit that hugged her curves in the very same way that he wanted to. His eyes couldn't resist her, as they slowly swept back up her body, over her fishnet tights, and the sight of her bodice reminded Giles why he used to be called Ripper.
Suddenly Buffy's voice dragged him back out of his perverted thoughts:
"Am I supposed to bow now, or kneel before you… Have honor or something?"
And then he was back to those perverted thoughts once again as the mental image of her kneeling before him sent his imagination reeling. This wasn't like him; he was her Watcher, but lately he was content to just, well, watch her. It was this crazy spell, nobody was acting appropriately anymore. They'd not even batted an eyelid when Buffy had revealed her dalliance with Spike of all people. Giles knew he shouldn't be having these thoughts about his young Slayer, but it seemed impossible to ignore them, to ignore her.
"It may seem hokey," he said, trying to keep his mind on his job, "but we need to work on precision and… and…" he struggled to find the right word as he stared at her breasts, mentally unlacing her top, "...concentration... as much as power. We're still not sure what we're facing."
"You'll figure it out," said Buffy, swinging her long shapely leg up, placing her foot on the pommel horse and stretching her limber body. "I'm just worried this whole session is going to turn into -"
Giles didn't hear the rest of her sentence, his mind was already busy at work, partly wondering if he should replace the pommel horse with a mechanical bull, partly coming up with the many things the training session could turn into, from a sleazy sweaty music video (Let's Get Physical, he mentally sang, and for a moment he was afraid he'd sung it aloud) to a scene from that lesser-known cult classic, Lesbian Spank Inferno: The Musical.
"Well, if that happens," he said, trying to reassure her (though not having heard her, he wasn't really sure about what), "we'll just lie down." He suddenly pictured them on the hard wooden floor together, their bodies entwined. "Until things go back to normal, that is. Anyway, I don't think we need to work too much on fitness, Buff. I mean Buffy."
"Yeah, I'm pretty fit for a corpse," Buffy agreed, as her nubile figure raised into a handstand on the pommel horse.
Giles had to agree, though he was alarmed that the more aroused he got upstairs the less there seemed to be going on downstairs. His posing pouch felt so roomy, and he worried that he'd soon run out of socks.
"Have you, uh, spoken with Dawn at all about the incident at Halloween?" he said, trying to take his mind off his longing.
Buffy jumped off the horse, landing on the ground, though the way she looked she deserved to land on a pedestal, if only so he could admire her more. "I thought you took care of that," she replied.
"Right," said Giles, who would have been disappointed in his slayer for neglecting her sisterly duties, if he hadn't been so eager to mount her the way she'd mounted that pommel horse.
"What would I do without you?" Buffy said as she finished doing some stretches. "Okay, I'm ready."
She certainly was, ready and waiting, but he had to resist her lush lusty lusciousness. He turned to his weapons, mounted on the wall, and started to sing:
You're so red-hot but my thing just dies
It keeps descending, but it just won't rise
I know I find that I keep staring at your thighs
As he continued, he took a couple of knives, weighing them in his hand. He sang directly to Buffy but was relieved to see that she wasn't hearing a word of it. She twisted her neck, getting ready to deflect the knives. He hurled the first two while he carried on singing:
My meat's unbeaten, that is my hell
Flames would exhume me with this messy spell
I try and think of deweydecimal
And as he hit the chorus he hurled the last knife and it stopped, right in front of Buffy's face, as everything apart from Giles started to move in extreme slow motion. Giles looked at the slowed-down Buffy, thrown into a steamy soft focus by his lack of glasses, his gaze lingering over her every movement.
I wish I could feel your nice curves
And trace them with my hand
Wish I could go much farther
Take you till you can't stand
Wish I could 'play'
But now it's not so grand
My man-thing's gone away
As he sang, Buffy continued to train, the perspiration dripping down her leather. Giles circled her, ogling her, as she practiced flying kicks, slowly somersaulted through the air and then started to pummel a punchbag. Finally, she fell into the splits, exciting every part of his body, well, nearly every part.
My primal urges it won't hear at all
All my lusts just cause its thrust to fall
So it just lies here, when it should be standing tall
I wish I could lay you right now
And grope your restless ass
Wish I could free my python
But now it's just an asp
Wish I could play
Start slow and finish fast
But my man-thing's gone away
Yes, my man-thing's gone away
As he finished singing, Buffy turned to him, her normal speed resumed.
"Did you say something?" she asked, thrusting her perky breasts toward him.
He looked at her, his face all flustered, ashamed and guilty and so turned on by her and it took all of his English restraint not to jump her beautifully-adorned bones.
Elsewhere in the shop, Willow was heading down into the cellar and Xander and Anya were working behind the counter, when Tara entered. She was in a rush and little else, as she sneaked in, being careful to avoid them. In her hand, she held a flowery herb.
She moved quickly to the ladder, climbing it to the next level, and started looking for a book amongst the vast library of magical texts. Pulling one out, she flipped through its pages until she found an illustration that matched the plant that she was holding. Nervously, she read the text below it: "Lethe's Bramble. Used for augmenting spells of forgetting and mind control."
Sitting there, looking at the picture, she started to sing, softly, unnoticed by everyone below:
Your breasts were so swell
Must have blinded me
Playing with your mammaries
I never saw your spell
Stole my memory
Almost a lobotomy
Standing at the top of the ladder, Tara looked down at the front of the store. She saw Willow there, talking to Buffy.
"You swayed me with Lethe," sang Tara.
And then as she descended the ladder, she saw Giles standing nearby, who'd suddenly decided to join in. "Believe me, I don't wanna go…" he sang, and then the next second they were both continuing the song:
Now I must leave you and to lust say no
Since we both know
As they started toward their respective loved ones, they sang soulfully, their voices unheard by anyone, even each other. Not that it mattered, thought Tara, since he was probably just recycling some lyric that he'd used earlier. Ignoring him, she continued to sing her innermost thoughts:
Wish we could thrust
Satisfy lustful wants
Rub your bust against my bust
But now my trust
Has turned to rust
And dust and I just
Giles joined in with her once more, as they sang identical lyrics, both wanting something they knew they shouldn't have:
Wish I could play
Wish I could play
Wish I could play
Wish I could play
The final note rang out just as the front door was flung open and Spike shoved a giant erect henchman into the room.
"Lookie lookie what I found," said Spike proudly, displaying the giant penis.
As the Scoobies all gathered around the penis, Tara, now back downstairs, brushed past Willow, trying to ignore her.
"Tara?" said Willow, finally noticing her.
Tara continued to ignore Willow, or at least pretended to. "Is this penis guy the demon guy?" she asked.
"He works for him," Spike explained. "Has a nice little story for the Slayer, don't you?" He thrusted the penis forward towards Buffy. "Come on, then. Spit it out."
Music swelled, but the henchman, having no mouth, started swaying mysteriously.
Buffy and Anya, mesmerized and charmed by his snake-like movements, began to circle the giant erection before them.
"Maybe we can tease it out of him," said Buffy.
"Or beat it out of him," butted in Xander, from the sidelines.
"No, we don't need to," said a transfixed Anya, her eyes glued to his veined magnificence. "Don't you realize? He's telling us."
"What? Like charades?" asked a puzzled Tara.
"Oh! One word!" shouted an excited Willow.
Anya shook her head dismissively and decided she better take charge. "Your mistress has the Slayer's sister hostage at the Bronze because she summoned him?" said Anya, who had been around numerous centuries and in that time had become skilled in the language of the penis. "And at midnight he's going to take her to the underworld to be his queen?"
The henchman nodded.
"Lucky guess," Spike said.
"What does he want?" Giles asked.
The henchman inclined his head toward Buffy, staring her in the eye.
Spike grabbed him from behind. "If that's all you've got to say, then -"
But at that point, Spike was tossed off by the henchman, who bolted out of the still-open door.
"Wankee!" Spike shouted after him.
At the same time, Anya also yelled after the fleeing phallus, "Let's do lunch!" before turning back to a clearly-jealous Xander. "Don't get penis-envy, sweetie. It's just platonic. Besides he's a great conversationalist."
"So Dawn's in trouble," said Buffy. "It must be Tuesday."
"I just left her for a few minutes…" said Tara.
"It's not your fault," Buffy said, turning to Giles. "So, what's the plan?"
"Plan, shman, let's mount up!" said Xander.
It was hard enough for Giles to concentrate on his job with Buffy's breasts hovering in front of him, and Xander's talk of mounting just made thing worse. He knew what he wanted and he knew that was also the one thing he couldn't have. The only option was to keep as far away from his Slayer as possible. "No!" he finally said.
The others turned to him, surprised.
"Uh, Dawn may have had the wrong idea in summoning this creature," said Anya, "but I've seen some of these crazy sex-mad she-demons and it never end well." She hugged Xander and smiled. "Well, maybe once."
"We're not just going to stay here," argued Willow.
"Yes we are," said Giles, realizing no-one could be fully immune to his Slayer's perfectly-proportioned pulchritude. "Buffy's going alone."
Buffy was shocked at this news, and pleased that the others were now arguing over it. First it was Spike calling Giles a stupid git, and then Willow dragging magic into things as usual. As it was, Giles was standing his ground, and the worst thing was that he might be right, at least in Spike's case. If her stud-muffin accompanied her, it would no doubt just descend into yet more distracting songs about his penis, and she needed her wits about her if she was to rescue Dawn.
"Forget them, Slayer," said Spike, interrupting her thoughts. "I got your back."
"I thought you wanted me to stay away from you, not to mention your penis," she replied, still unable to get his penis out of her mind. "Isn't that what you sang?"
Spike took her words hard, looking embarrassedly about him.
"Spikey sang a widdle ditty about his widdle dicky?" said Xander, pleased with himself, since this was one way he could still be a big dick.
"Would you say your penis song was hard rock or soft and slushy?" asked a genuinely-curious Anya.
"Let it go, sweetie," said Xander.
Spike stared at Buffy. "Fine. I hope you dance till you burn," he spat out. "You and the little bint." And with that, he stormed off into the night.
Buffy turned to Giles. "You're really not coming?"
Giles wished he was coming, in every sense, but he girded his loins and tried to stay strong. "It's up to you, Buffy."
"What do you expect me to do?" she answered.
Giles looked her in the chest, and concentrated on not drooling and on producing a coherent answer, he couldn't let her know how he so much wanted to fondle and have bags of fun with her fun bags right now. And so, he just told her what he expected her to do: her best.
Buffy looked at him in confusion, and then silently walked off, out of the Magic Box.
Giles looked at the others, all staring at him with the same confused look, except for Xander who was sniggering. What was their problem? Was it that he'd abandoned his Slayer in her hour of need? At least he'd told her to do her best, hadn't he? And then suddenly his Freudian slip dawned on him as he looked to the floor in embarrassment and his fingers rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I just said 'Your breast', didn't I?"
The others nodded in unison, except for Xander who just continued to snigger.