The three of them are on the little porch, drinking Giles-brewed tea from tin mugs, watching the storm roll in from the west. Summer thunderstorm, blessed relief. Dark clouds, chasing the humidity away, the temperature dropping twenty degrees in twenty minutes. The wind brings the scent of rain. Buffy can see the lightning long before she can hear it. Half the sky is still light blue.
Something else has been building between them, all day today. Their eyes on her body, when she came out of her morning shower. Her eyes on their bodies. The way they’d been careful not to touch each other all week, after months of living in each other’s pockets.
The first thick raindrops tick down on the porch roof. Buffy drains her tea and sets the mug on the bare floorboards at her feet. The rain comes harder now and the wind carries it under the porch roof. Drops spatter against Buffy’s face, her bare arms. Lightning cracks and booms again, closer now.
“Let’s go inside,” she says, at last.
Giles lets his chair fall back down onto four legs. Xander stands up and takes off his baseball cap. He holds the screen door for her and follows her into the cabin. Inside, he fidgets with his cap then tosses it at the sofa. He rumples up his hair. Giles has brought the mugs in, but he just drops them onto the counter by the sink. He comes over to Buffy.
It’s about to break. They’re finally there.
Xander comes up behind her and puts his arms around her waist. Buffy leans back against him. She looks over at Giles, but he’s got his hands in his pockets and is staring at his own feet. Then he glances up at her, and she nods to him.
Buffy bunches up her hair and holds it against her head with both hands. Xander’s breath is hot on the back of her neck, hot and damp. He kisses her neck. Buffy closes her eyes. His hand rests on her hip, his thumb at the waistband of her jeans. He kisses her again, trailing down and around to her shoulder.
Floorboards creak, and Giles is there in front of her. His hand pushes up her tank top and rests against her side. Buffy lets her hair fall and shrugs Xander away. She pulls her tank top over her head and drops it to the floor.
Xander grasps her arms and licks her neck. Buffy groans and tilts her head; he does it again. Then he bites her, ever so gently.
Giles cups her breast and caresses her nipple with his thumb. He’s gazing down at her breasts, at his hand, solemnly, as if he’s pondering something deep. Then he meets her eyes and smiles at her, not a big grin, but enough of a smile to crinkle up his eyes. He looks closer to happy than he has since Sunnydale fell. He bends and kisses her breast.
Buffy begins to wonder if they’ll talk at all when they do this. Hours go by, sometimes, without one of them talking, but the first time they have sex seems momentous enough that maybe they should. Or maybe not. They still haven’t exchanged two words about what happened that day. The scythe rests in the back corner of the cabin, heavy and bright and dangerous, and if the two men ever look at it, Buffy has never seen them do it.
Thunder rolls, nearby now, less than a mile away. Xander lets go of her and takes a step or two away. When he returns, he’s shed his shirt as well. Her bare back rests against his chest, skin to skin. Buffy sighs. He holds her steady while Giles kisses her breasts. Buffy is starting to breathe hard, and it gets even more intense when Xander unzips her jeans and slides his hand down over her mound.
Giles straightens and sees Xander. He pulls away from her and rubs the back of his neck with a hand. He looks uncertain. “Buffy,” he says, hand still rubbing at his hair. “Is this–”
Buffy knows it’s up to her, so she says, “It’s okay.”
“What would you like?”
“Both of you. At the same time. We do this together.”
Just to make sure they get it, she takes Xander’s hand and holds it up against Giles’s shoulder. Xander squeezes Giles and smiles at Buffy. He looks pleased. At last, he must be thinking, just like she is. Giles’s only reaction is to fumble with the buttons on his shirt. He undoes one, two, three buttons, then pulls it over his head. It knocks his glasses askew and he’s sheepish when he sets them straight again.
Xander goes over to the bed and sits down. The bed-frame creaks, as always, and the mattress springs squeak. Buffy sits next to Xander and joins him in kicking off her boots. She, like him, has used cowboy boots. She, like him, had nothing when she fled the disaster. Giles had a bag with a few strange things in it, magic stuff, not so much as a change of clothes.
Buffy strips herself then watches Giles take off his boxers. She’s seen that before, many times, but this is the first time she’s seen him aroused. It’s neat. He looks different from Xander, who’s different in turn from the other men Buffy has seen. He’s thicker; Xander is longer; they both feel good in her hands. They both groan when she strokes them, in different ways. And they are checking each other out just like Buffy is, too.
They look at each other over Buffy’s head and nod. Then they’re picking her up and laying her down on the bed, one on each side of her. Kissing her, one on her mouth, the other on her body, switching when it pleases them, touching her all over. Touching each other, sometimes, Giles bolder than Xander, but both of them reaching across her to find each other. They explore Buffy’s body together. Xander dips a finger inside her and holds it up to Giles to lick clean. Giles licks, then kisses Xander’s palm.
It shifts, intensifies, and Buffy starts to want to move on to what comes next. She disengages from them and kneels up on the bed. They follow suit.
Xander’s got the bottle of lubricant. He brushes the dust off then rips the plastic seal away. How many weeks ago did he buy that? He was ahead of her and Giles, way ahead, in figuring out where they were going. He shows it to her and waits for her approval. Buffy smiles at him. Xander crawls around behind her and runs his hand down her back. It comes to rest on her backside. Then he moves between, and touches her right there, where he’s going to be inside her. Buffy’s breath catches.
Giles is there, taking her head between his hands. He kisses her, long slow sloppy open-mouthed kisses. Wet kisses. Buffy never guessed Giles would kiss like that. She has pegged him as the neat, dry peck kind of kisser, not the kind into licking her lips until she lets him in. Giles is distracting her from whatever Xander is doing, except that he can’t distract her. Xander’s fingertip presses inside her, from behind. Buffy pushes back toward him, trying to encourage him. He slides it all the way in. Wet and slippery, moving inside her, in and out, slowly. It feels good, better than it did when she tried it on her own. She makes a little sound.
Giles smiles at her and she smiles back. He kisses her again and Xander chooses that moment to use two fingers. Buffy gasps into Giles’s mouth. He bites her lip. Xander is playing with her backside, now, slicking her up even more, moving in and out. Giles touches her clitoris, taps at it and drives her mad, then he rubs with the strong touch that Buffy needs. Buffy spreads her knees a little wider for both of them. The lube is cool and so slick. Xander slides in easily. Buffy’s lost track, but she thinks he’s using more fingers now, and Giles is, he’s–
Buffy feels it coming, rolling over her, and she lets it happen. She comes. Giles holds her up and lets it finish. Buffy breathes herself down. She’s worked up and not anywhere near satisfied. Xander’s fingers are still inside her, and she wants more. She moves her hips to feel that friction again, but Xander has withdrawn from her. Buffy cranes around to look at him.
“She’s ready. Could you–” Xander trails off.
It’s the first thing he’s said, and he’s looking at Giles when he says it. His hands are messy. Giles nods. He gets two condoms out of the package and opens one. He takes Xander’s penis and unrolls the condom onto it, using both hands and taking his time. Xander groans and Giles strokes him again, through the condom. Then he lets go of Xander and puts the second one on himself, more quickly. Buffy wonders what Giles’s life was like before she met him, if he’ll ever tell her anything about it. Has he done this before?
Then Xander’s body is behind her again, and he’s holding himself against her, nudging at her with his penis. Buffy forgets everything else in the sensation of Xander’s penis entering her from behind. Giles holds her up, lets her feel it without having to worry about anything. She’s breathing hard. It’s supposed to be degrading, but Buffy doesn’t feel that way about it. It’s strange, good, sexy, intimate. Xander’s groaning as he presses inside, saying the word “yeah” over and over, and his pleasure makes Buffy feel good.
Xander’s inside her, all the way in. He feels huge. He cradles her back against his chest and Buffy lets herself rest against him. His thighs, braced between hers, are hard with muscle and fuzzy.
Giles’s turn. He reaches down between her legs to open her with his fingers, but she’s already open and wet. He teases her a little bit, brushing over her with fingertips but not staying in any one place for more than an instant. He’s driving her crazy and Buffy wants him inside already. Inside, where Xander is. The thought makes her moan.
Giles’s hand goes away. Buffy looks where he’s looking, at himself, at the pale condom stretched over his broad penis. He’s grasped it by the base, just above where the condom starts, and he shuffles forward on his knees. Xander rocks her backward, and it’s awkward for a few seconds. Then the tip of Giles’s penis enters her and Buffy groans. Giles pushes further. Her body is completely opened, back and front, opened and filled by the two of them.
Giles’s face is strained, but he holds himself together. His eyebrows ask the question and Buffy nods. This is good. This is what she wants. Three months of sleeping nestled between the two of them, slowly calming down, out here in the middle of nowhere, nothing but big sky and the only two people left to her. Giles and Xander. Three months, and she’s ready now.
They settle into a slow pulse, one moving in while the other eases out. So slow, but it’s almost too much for Buffy, too much sensation. The two of them, pressed against her, before and behind, holding her so close. Both of them inside her. She’s safe. For the first time since they lost everything, she’s safe.
“I can feel you,” Xander says. His voice is full of wonder. Giles stops kissing Buffy and leans over her shoulder to Xander. They’re kissing at last. Buffy’s been waiting for this for weeks now. They’ve been holding her between them, and now holding each other at last. Kissing each other, kissing her, moving inside her, alongside each other.
Buffy starts to shiver.
All Xander has to do is reach around to touch her and she’s coming again, sharply this time, an intense burst of pleasure that makes her want to shout. Xander comes next. He speeds up, loses the pulse in frantic seconds of thrusting, and then he stops. Holds himself in place. Buffy can hear him whimpering as his penis pulses inside her. Strange, strange, thing, yet wonderful at the same time. He sighs and slumps a little bit, but doesn’t withdraw from her yet. It’s Giles’s turn to speed up, to chase completion, while Buffy whispers encouragement. He’s slower to reach it, takes longer. Buffy watches his face, so familiar, so strange an expression on it, almost pained, except that the sounds he’s making are good sounds. And then his face changes again, and he’s there.
Giles cries afterward. Tears roll down his nose and drip off, and he shakes his head and looks embarrassed despite it. Buffy puts her arms around his waist. Xander is the one who finds Giles’s pants and digs in his pockets. No hankie. He sits up again and hands his own t-shirt to Giles. Giles smiles at Xander, full-eye crinkle through the tears, and wipes his face off with it.
He’s still crying, just a little bit, later, when the three of them are under the blanket, calm now, still quiet, listening to the rain on the roof.