Giles laughed as he sat on the box next to her. "A little late as far as warnings go."

"You know we don't have room for these, right? They're just going to get stacked up against some wall until we need them then we'll dig through the dusty piles…"

"Isn't that what Xander is for?"

She grinned. "I'm sure he'd appreciate that assessment of his talents."

"We could always move out. Buy a place of our own? Housing prices fall as the death toll rises. Buffy's been a great boon to the seller's market."

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "You mean it?"

"We are outgrowing this place rather rapidly." He leaned back and looked at his hands. "Although it does seem a big step right after a wedding…"

"Rupert, I've no intention of changing my mind about us." She put her hand on top of his. "Buying a house is the next step. It means more room."

He smiled his thanks. "I'm bound to worry a bit. I have some difficulty believing that this is all real sometimes."

"You have nothing to worry about." She stood up and grabbed another box. "You're not getting rid of me, no matter how hard you try." Setting this box on the one she'd been sitting on, she looked inside. "What exactly are all of these again?"

"Sexual technique manuals."

She lifted one out, pretending she didn't hear the humor in his voice. "Well, maybe Xander is the best person to look through them."

Glancing over at Giles, Willow couldn't help but smile. He was barely suppressing a grin, failing miserably to hide his obvious excitement. He'd been searching for a house for them for weeks now, only showing her the ones that he thought she might like. She hadn't seen many. Apparently his standards were high and Sunnydale wasn't meeting his criteria.

Tonight, all that had changed. When she'd gotten home from class, he'd been leaning against the mantel, his eyes dancing. She'd set her books down on the table by the door and smiled at him. "Good news?"

"Do you have plans for the evening?"

"Dinner with the Queen, but I can blow her off if needed."

"Well, if it's the Queen…"

She moved to his side and stepped easily into the arms he held out to her. "What's this all about, Giles? You look as though you've discovered the cure to the Hellmouth."

"Nothing quite so illustrious, love, but I do think I've found us a place to live that might just fit all our books."

"Is there really such a place?" She looked up at him, her own smile full of mischief. "I didn't dare dream it existed."

Shaking his head, Giles gave her a small shove. "Let's go. We've an appointment to keep."

Which brought them to now, driving in the car with Giles losing the battle and openly grinning. He glanced over at her, a faint tint of red covering his cheeks. "I really hope that you like it, love."

"I don't think I'll be able to help myself if your excitement is any indication. I wish you'd simply tell me."

"You'll see soon enough." He moved one hand from the steering wheel and pointed to the right just as he turned a corner. "What do you think?"

The house was two stories tall. It was painted dove gray with soft ivory trim. The architecture matched nothing she'd ever seen. The top of the house seemed gothic, befitting a mansion like Angel's or something out of the Addam's Family. The roof was turreted and the side of the house featured what was obviously a circular staircase that led up to the attic. The downstairs was more of something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Flower boxes filled with a bright profusion of color hung from every window. The porch circled the entire front of the house and included a porch swing as well as a couple of wicker chairs. The lawn was a luscious green, neatly trimmed and edged with beautiful, large, old oak trees. "I think I've never seen a house with more of a split personality."

Giles' face fell.

Willow, not noticing his distress, continued. "It's like Drusilla moved in with Beaver and family." Realizing she'd just made a TV reference, Willow apologized. "Sorry. Like Rochester just moved in with Pippi Longstocking. You know who she is, right?" She turned to face him, her eyes growing concerned when she noticed the look on his face. "Rupert? What's wrong?"

"I thought, perhaps, you'd actually like its eccentricity. I can see I was wrong." He took a step back toward the car. "Well, no need to stay for the realtor then, we can just head home."

"Rupert." Willow stood her ground. "Did I say I didn't like it?"

"You didn't seem all that favorable."

"I was making comments. I never said I didn't like it. If you had let me finish, or even simply answered my question, I would have continued on to say that it sort of fits us. Nice couple by day, Watcher and witch by night."

"What was your question?"

She smiled, his unspoken apology accepted by her silent agreement. "Do you know who Pippi Longstocking is?"

"Yes. I don't just read musty tomes of prophecy, you know."

"You've read Pippi Longstocking?"

"Er, well no, but I know of her." He blushed crimson, turning thankfully at the sound of another car pulling into the driveway. "That should be Mr. Miller, our realtor. I asked him to show us around the inside."

"Have you seen it yet?"

"Earlier today."

"So you've got everything planned out?"

"I have ideas for a few of the rooms…" he trailed off, pretending to be irritated by the mischievous gleam in her eye. "Wait until you see it, Mrs. Giles. Then we'll talk about what rooms will house what. If you can get past the appearances and give it a chance."

Willow walked through the empty hallway, heading for the circular staircase that led to the attic. She'd been in every other room in the house, inspecting them, planning for them. Giles followed behind her, a knowing smile on his face. When she reached the doorway, she stopped and turned around.

"I love it. But you knew I'd love it, didn't you?"

"I thought you might." He opened the door for her and they made their way up into the attic. It was a huge space, obviously used just for storage by the previous tenants. He looked out the small circular window at the street. "I had Oz do some computer research for me and, as far as we can tell, nothing even remotely supernatural has occurred either in the house or on the land it sits on."

"That in itself is odd." She finished her survey of the room and started back down the stairs. Walking silently until she reached the kitchen, she paused and leaned against the counter. "Can we afford this?"

"You mean now or once your brilliant career has begun?" He leaned back as well, placing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him.

"Well, since I'm only just about to begin my second year of college, I was hoping for a now answer."

"It's affordable. The council, even if they disapprove of my choice in spouse, are required to pay for a portion of my housing."

"So they'll own part of our house?" She frowned. "I don't like that."

"That's not quite it. Part of my pay from them is a housing supplement. I've been putting it aside for the past several years and living off my salary from the school. We should be able to use that to put a substantial amount down."

Willow lifted herself up onto the counter and rested her elbows on her knees. "It's big enough. You and Buffy can train in the basement…"

"Five bedrooms. Enough for Slayer and Slayerettes, should they need a place to stay." He lifted his hand and began to stroke her hair. "Enough room for anyone else who might come along."

"A library and a computer room," she mused, letting her head roll forward under his touch. "You're sure we can afford it? It seems excessive."

"It seems too perfect."

"Which worries me too." She sighed. "But it is everything we want. And all at a good price." She looked over at the real estate agent who was gazing nervously at the darkening sky. "Mr. Miller?"

He started visibly and turned to face them. "Sorry. Yes?"

"We'll take it."

He relaxed and grabbed his briefcase. "Wonderful. Shall we go back to my office then? We'll get the paperwork started." As they walked back to their cars, he turned to Giles. "I heard you mention training. Are you an instructor of some kind?"

Giles cursed at himself under his breath before smiling at the agent. "I'm the librarian at the high school, although I do teach some self-defense classes."

Willow smiled. "That's how we met actually."

"I see." The agent unlocked his door, his eyes checking out the surrounding area. "I'll meet you back at the office then?"

Giles nodded. "We'll see you there."

It was well past midnight when they staggered out of the realtor's office. They'd spent the evening filling out a host of forms, arguing with the realtor over prices, bids, offers and inspections. When they'd finally finished, they'd all three leaned back in their chairs and sighed deeply.

Now, Willow walked next to Giles, one hand securely in his, a stake gripped tightly in the other. "I never realized it was so much work."

"The work hasn't even begun." Giles grinned sheepishly. "There's still packing and moving, cleaning and planning…"

"And double checking the computer records to find out why the realtor was so very nervous when it started getting dark? I've never seen an adult in Sunnydale, present company excluded of course, that seemed to have any clue that there was something rotten in the state of Sunnydale unless they were up to something."

"My thoughts exactly." He smiled sadly. "I'm afraid we've got a long night ahead of us. And, unfortunately, it's not the kind of night I had planned."

"Me either. I was looking forward to cataloguing some of those sexual technique manuals you just got in. Instead I'm researching. Ah, the life of a Slayerette."

He chuckled, reaching over for her hand. "All is not lost, my love. We'll have several rooms to practice cataloguing those sexual technique manuals after we've acquired the house."

"Initiating every room, hmmm?" Willow pretended to think about it as she moved their joined hands to his thigh. "I suppose that's something to look forward to."

"Damn." Willow slammed the book shut and tossed it from her lap onto the couch. "I can't find a damn thing."

"Neither can I." Giles took off his glasses and set them on the desk. "Perhaps we're going about it the wrong way?"

"You think? Since, if we were going about it the right way, we'd have found something."

Giles set his book on the desk as well and knelt down in front of her. His eyebrows were raised and his smile almost mocking. "And when did I become the enemy?"

Instantly, Willow looked embarrassed and sad. "I'm sorry Rupert. I'm annoyed because we're not finding anything. I don't mean to take it out on you." She reached out and touched his cheek. "I was just so excited and then so let down that it wasn't as perfect as it seemed, even though I knew it wouldn't be."

"I feel the same way, Willow." He stood, grabbing her hands as he did so and pulling her up with him. "I have an idea."

"What?" She couldn't help but match his grin, which had turned decidedly playful.

"Well, you mentioned initiating every room in the house, when we take ownership, correct?"

Willow's grin widened at the prospect, "It's a time honored tradition."

"Well, it would stand then, that another tradition would be to do the same in every room of the house you're leaving. Sort of a symmetry, if you will."

"Right." Willow nodded. "It does sound as though it would be a tradition. Either that or it's your way of saying you don't want to research anymore."

"I think," Giles brushed her hair back from the sides of her face with both hand and leaned closer to her. "That I'm simply trying to tell you that I've gone far too long without this."

"This?" Willow asked breathlessly as his lips descended, capturing hers and claiming them for his own. His hands tangled in her hair, holding her captive beneath him. She wound her hands around his neck, standing on tiptoe to maintain contact as he slowly drew back. Panting, she bit her lower lip then swiped it with her tongue.

"Shall we be traditionalists, then my love?" He stepped back, his hand sliding down to hold hers. "And start at the top, working our way down, or should we start at the bottom and wind up on top?"

Willow groaned softly under her breath, letting him lead her toward the kitchen. "Top…bottom…I don't mind. You make both so much fun."

Giles turned and swept her up into his arms, holding her closely. "Perhaps a little of both then?" He carried her over to the kitchen table, pushing the pile of books and papers to the floor. Willow's eyes widened and he grinned. "Don't worry, they're just your text books." He set her on the edge of the table. "And they're much safer down there than they are up here."

"Why, Mr. Giles? What do you plan on doing up here?"

He growled and raised his eyebrows, lunging toward her. Willow shrieked and scrambled back, searching for purchase on the fabric of the tablecloth. Giles pinned her down, grinning hungrily. "Let me show you." He moved forward, his lips firm on hers as he pressed her body down onto the table, his legs sliding easily between hers.

Willow relaxed into his kiss, wrapping her legs around his knees to hold him in place. With a low moan, Giles ground against her, pressing his erection to the heat building between her legs. Bracing his hands against the table, he guided his legs back over the edge, making sure to keep the kiss, and the heat, between them.

When his feet touched the floor, Giles finally pulled away. Willow gasped for air as he broke the kiss, a pout settling on her features. "Where are you going?"

"Not far," he promised. He reached around to unlock her legs from behind him, easing them down so that they dangled over the side of the table. Willow lay there watching him as he stepped back. His hands slid along her thighs, heating her skin through the material of her jeans.

Her eyelids fluttered, as the heat from his hands seemed to spread out through her body, turning her to liquid. She allowed her eyes to close, giving herself over to the sensations he was causing. When she gave in and relaxed, Giles ran his fingers over her thighs to the fastening of her jeans.

He undid the button and the zipper, smiling to himself when she instinctively raised her hips to allow him to undress her. He guided them from her legs, easing her out of jeans and panties in one easy movement. Willow shivered, whether from cold or heat, he couldn't tell. "You look good enough to eat," his soft comment was thick with emotion.

"Good thing I'm on the dining room table then, hmm?" Willow's voice was laced with question, wondering at his intentions. She opened her eyes slightly, watching him as he surveyed her reverently. Suddenly, he favored her with a hungry smile. Chills of excitement ripped through Willow and she shuddered.

"A very good thing," he acknowledged, his voice deep. With a gentle tug, he pulled her towards him until her legs dangled over the side of the table. Reaching up, Giles untied his tie and lay it over the back of a chair. "Can you sit up?"

"Not without falling off," she whispered.

"Very good," his accent seemed thicker and Willow's eyes flicked to the very prominent bulge pressing against the tailored fabric of his slacks. He bent over her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Willow arched her back to allow him to slip his hand under her, shrieking softly when it slipped under her shirt. "Don't tell me you're frightened?"

She was shivering, but fright had nothing to do with it. She shook her head, not wanting to speak. He grinned above her and continued letting his hands move, guiding her shirt off of her, quickly and efficiently.

Giles tossed the shirt over another chair then grabbed his tie. Walking to the other end of the table, he very carefully looped it over one of Willow's wrists. Taking her other hand in his, he repeated the gesture, then lay her hands back on the table. "Shall I tell you a fantasy of mine, little one?"

Nodding this time, Willow closed her eyes again, letting his voice wash over her like a caress.

"I was sitting in my office one day, long before graduation, and you walked in. You were all flushed from some illicit activity with Oz, I imagined, and you were slightly disarrayed. Your hair was mussed, your shirt buttoned wrong," he walked around her, still fully dressed, occasionally stroking a particularly tender piece of flesh with his warm fingers. "You rushed in, actually, late for an appointment with me. You wanted to learn a new spell, and I refused to teach it to you. You were so angry and disappointed, thinking I'd turned you away because you weren't ready."

The day seeped back into Willow's mind, the hurt and rejection she'd felt. It hadn't all been because of the magic; her feelings for Giles had been out in full force that day. She hadn't been with Oz. It had been a Saturday and she'd stayed home in bed…thinking.

His fingers brushed over one erect nipple, watching as her body shimmered with the reaction. "The spell had nothing to do with why I turned you away." He looked at her eyes, waiting for them to open, to question. When they didn't, he continued. "You were so beautiful, looking as if you'd just gotten out of bed after being made love to, that it was all I could do not to lock the door and let you know what I was thinking."

Willow moaned her disappointment, unable to help herself. If he had done that, if he had locked her in there with him, in the state she'd been in, she would have given herself to him eagerly. Finally opening her eyes, Willow met his gaze. "Let me know now?"

He shook his head, his heart tightening at the disappointment in her green eyes. He moved to her side and leaned over her, his breath warm on her lips. "Now that I know you better, love, I know you probably would have shied away from what I was thinking. But now, you're something of my captive, aren't you? You're all tied up, can't sit up by yourself without falling to the floor."

"If it's something…?" Her confusion carried through in her voice. She couldn't believe that he had any intention of doing something he thought she wouldn't like. Did he?

"I said it was something you would have shied away from, Willow. Not something you would shy away from now." He moved away again, his breath just a memory briefly heating her skin. She nodded, understanding. "Do you think you're ready now?"

She nodded again, more vehemently. Her body was on fire, flames of desire and lust licking through her. She caught his grin, wondering at what he had planned for her. What would have upset or frightened her two years ago? She chuckled under her breath, with as much as she'd known about sex then, pretty much anything would have. Anything…unusual, anyway.

"Should I blindfold you, do you think?" His gaze was on her again, his intentions blazing in his eyes. A tremor ran through Willow's body before she could speak and he nodded his satisfaction. "I think I like the element of surprise." Willow opened her mouth to comment, snapping it closed as he produced a makeshift blindfold. His smile, lustful as it was, held an undercurrent of love and compassion, easing any fears she might have had away. "Don't you?"

"Yes."

Relief washed through him. He hadn't been sure how she would respond, although so far in their time together, she'd responded favorably to anything they'd managed to try. He fastened the blindfold around her and gently lay her head back on the table. "Everything all right?"

"To put it mildly."

Giles grinned, amazed at the beautiful body lying before him like a sacrifice. His sacrifice. His wife. His grin turned into a smile of pride, pleasure and excitement. Stepping away from her, he moved to the refrigerator, gathering a small collection of things.

"What are you doing?"

"If I told you, it would sort of undermine the blindfold, wouldn't it? Shall I just say that I've been struck with the need to honor each room by utilizing it to it's fullest potential."

"You're not going to put me in the oven, are you? Maybe I should have done a possession determiner spell first."

"I promise, no ovens, love." He moved back to the table, standing at her side. Setting the majority of items in his hands down on one of the chairs, he carefully brought one of the items up and held it lightly over the dark circle of her nipple.

"What are you…oh!" Willow's voice rose as the freezing droplet of water, dripping now from the ice cube Giles held in his hand, landed on her heated skin. She listened for the telltale sizzle, as he let several drops fall, hardening the already painfully tight flesh.

He moved his hand, letting the drops fall randomly across her skin. Walking slowly around her, he watched the rivulets of water make their way along her creamy ivory skin. Moving between her legs again, he leaned forward and ran the cube directly against her skin, her nipples crinkling and tightening, her breath sharpening in response. "I'm beginning to think you're not joking when you say you're on fire, love."

Willow didn't answer, unable to deal with the sensations she was experiencing. The ice against her hot skin, the rough scratch of his slacks against her tender thighs, the soft coolness of his shirt, the hot rush of need that was coiling and uncoiling in her stomach.

"But, on that same note, I'm not sure I want you cooled down just yet." He pulled back, eliciting a groan of frustration from her. Tossing what was left of the ice cube in the sink, he glanced down at the selection on the chair. Grabbing a small jar, he removed the lid and dipped his fingers in the liquid. Raising them to Willow, he traced her parted lips, painting them with the liquid.

Her tongue darted out, catching his fingers before he was able to move them. She sucked them into her mouth, licking and tasting. The coolness of the ice cube was highlighted by the soft cherry flavor that lingered on his skin. Finally, she let him pull his fingers back, licking her lips in satisfaction. "Grenadine. We're having maraschino cherries."

Randomly placing cherries on her body, Giles let the juices journey over her skin, dipping into the valley between her breasts, pooling in her navel. He shivered himself as a single droplet managed to slip between her legs and make a meager attempt to douse the core of her fire, only succeeding in causing a low rumble of pleasure to stir in Willow's throat.

Reminding himself silently to remember to chase after that particular droplet, Giles turned his attention back to where he had started. Her lips, stained red, were parted, her breathing was weak and fractured. Unbuttoning his shirt, he tossed it aside, finally past caring where it fell. Bare chested, he bent over Willow, brushing his tongue along her lips.

She opened her mouth to him, begging him to let his tongue enter her, explore her, fill her. He denied her, moving his lips along her jaw line, down her throat, over her collarbone until he reached the first cherry, perched precariously on the tip of one breast.

His tongue wrapped around the fruit and rid her of it. Willow's body wriggled on the table until he swallowed the cherry and brought his tongue back to her skin. He licked the sticky juice from her breast before wrapping his tongue around her nipple. Sucking on the puckered skin, he held her hips with his hands, keeping her from moving and upsetting his carefully arranged seduction. What movement she was able to make send more droplets cascading over her body, coating her even more in the sticky prison he'd devised for her.

Giles pulled back, leaving the skin he'd just left licked clean. He bathed his finger in the pool of juice between Willow's breasts and trailed it down to her stomach. Dipping it again in the shallow pool of her navel, he used his other hand to part her legs. His finger moved down to trace the hard button of her clit, surrounding it with the sweet blood of the fruit.

"Oh…Rupert," she panted.

He pulled his finger away and moved away. Willow was whimpering and moaning at the lack of his touch, her head moving, despite the blindfold, listening for his steps. He stepped back up to her, on the opposite side, and captured the next cherry. This one he brought to her lips, allowing her the treat when he kissed her.

While she devoured the berry, Giles moved back down to clean up the delicious mess it had left. His tongue flickered on sensitive flesh, tasting, nibbling and sucking until her other breast was bare. Leaving the small valley there for last, he moved down over the soft swell to trace the line that led from between her breasts to her stomach.

The next cherry was gone more quickly, as he grew increasing unwilling to leave her side, or postpone either of their growing excitement. Willow was writhing now, unable to stop herself. Her thighs were pressed tight together. She wanted to open herself up and let him explore her and tease her, but the building pressure was become far too much to ignore.

Giles moved to her knees and rested his hands on them. Willow breathed a sigh of relief and opened her legs for him. His gaze was locked on the sparkle of juice and wetness painting the soft tangle of hair between her thighs, promising him a far sweeter dessert than the cherries. Reaching over onto the chair, he grabbed one last thing before moving between her legs.

With one hand, he unfastened his slacks, easing them down as, with the other, he took yet another ice cube and pressed it's tip lightly against Willow's throbbing clitoris.

She cried out wordlessly, her body arching off the table. He slipped it down over the button, easing the cold cube into the inferno of her passageway.

Finally free of his clothes, he brushed the tip of his cock over her, just as he had done with the ice cube. Willow was thrashing her head back and forth, her mouth open to accommodate the soft cries coming from it. Removing the pressure of his cock from against her, he pressed the tip to the heat of her. He could feel the trace of cool the cube had left in its wake and he took a deep breath.

Pushing forward, he braced himself for the frozen impact of the ice against his cock. It hit with the force of an icy breeze, then mixed exquisitely with the heat of Willow's body. She wrapped her legs around him, grinding herself against him, thrusting with what little purchase she could manage.

Using Giles' presence as an anchor, Willow managed to sit up, the motion of which changed the pressure of his thrusts and sent her consciousness shattering. Giles grabbed her quickly, holding her body to his, continuing to thrust inside her, the cold gone in the flush of her orgasm. Now, it was just heat, a blazing fire of Willow, surrounding him and engulfing him.

Willow dropped her tied hands around his neck, bringing his head to her neck as she ground against him. Giles adjusted his grip so that he was holding her and staggered back. Turning, he pressed her to the refrigerator, thrusting up into her.

The machine kicked on, vibrating slightly. Willow moaned again as her second climax crashed through her. Giles buried his head in her neck, inhaling her, sucking the soft flesh there until he could no longer breath. Everything went silent as he threw his head back, a voiceless cry issuing forth as he fell against her, his whole body shuddering with the force of his explosion.

Continues