Office Hours

Xander shows Giles the best way to spend an hour locked in your office.


Giles slammed the office door shut and shot the bolt. The bolt was a flimsy thing, easily ripped out of the wall if a rambunctious Slayer decided to burst the door in, but it was more the symbolism of the thing. He leaned his forehead against the door and blessed its solidity. The noise was all on the other side.

“At last we are alone,” said Xander. He came up behind Giles and slipped his arms around his waist.

Giles groaned in frustration, then turned in Xander’s arms. “How many of them are there, again?”

“We got seven in the house today. Seven Slayers, and about a hundred Cadbury eggs. Ay-yi-yi.”

“I’ll disinherit Dawn when I see my solicitor tomorrow. Remind me. What are we supposed to be doing in here?”

“Paperwork. Permits for running the school or something.”

Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The consultants are doing that for us. I sent the last batch off to them yesterday.”

Xander pressed closer. “So what you’re saying is, we’ve got nothing to do for an hour or two, and the ravening hordes are locked outside the door.”

Xander’s sly grin demanded an answer, and Giles was happy to return it. And return Xander’s kiss. So strange, the feeling of another man in his arms. Had he been waiting all his life for this? Xander’s firm arse in his hands, his scratchy chin, his strong hands braced on Giles’s shoulders, the way he took command of the kiss as Giles had been used to doing with women: all strange, all new, all wonderful.

Xander broke away. “You gotta get a couch in here or something.”


“Where are we going to sit to make out? The floor? Your desk is way too messy.”

Giles contemplated his desk in dismay. He’d left the architect’s drawings out, as well as the reference materials on Grummitch demons, since the village colony had grown fractious. No hope for the desk. He might be able to cram a little sofa in with the office furniture and the inevitable bookshelves, but certainly not in time to do them any good. The Turkey carpet had seen better days, with the wear lines in it dating from his father’s pacing days.

Xander pulled out the desk chair and spun it around.

“Sit. Room for two.”

Perhaps. The chair was an ancient rolling office chair as old as Giles was, built like a tank with springs that pinged but never seemed to give out. Giles sat, and Xander knelt over his lap. The chair tipped all the way backward and creaked alarmingly, but held. Brilliant thinking. It was even easier to fondle his arse in this position. Arse and thighs, hard with riding muscle under worn jeans, flexing as Xander ground himself against Giles’s lap. Erection against erection, another startling and wonderful experience, wildly exciting. Giles groaned into Xander’s mouth, and turned up the intensity. He might be new at this game of sex with another man, but he was a past master of the art of snogging. His experience was entirely applicable to men, and he proceeded to apply it.

Someone hammered at the door, and the knob turned. The door creaked.

Giles slammed a fist down on the chair arm. “Bloody fucking hell.”

“Is Xander in there? We need Xander.” One of the Slayers, Vi by the accent.

Xander said something nasty under his breath, which the Slayers could probably hear anyway. “What?” he said, aloud.

“We need you to–”

“No, you don’t.”


“Look, Giles and I are in here making out. Go away.”

A moment of silence, then a burst of female giggles. “Okay.”

Then rapid footsteps, retreating down the hall. Giles felt his cheeks burn. The blunt approach was effective, though, he had to admit. He gave himself a moment for his anger to fade, to change gears back into snog mode. Xander, however, had run far ahead of him. He had a hand on Giles’s belt buckle and was tugging at it.


“Stupid buckle. Complicated. I figure we have half an hour before they invent another excuse to listen at the door. No time to lose. Office blow job. Right now. Fulfill your wildest fantasies. Help me get your pants off.”

Xander had already demonstrated his willingness to have sex anywhere, at a moment’s notice. Giles had been that way himself, at that age, heedless of where he was or who was watching so long as he had a willing partner. Those days were long over, but Giles was happy to revisit them. He would die a sated man now, perhaps of embarrassment, perhaps of heart failure. He let Xander undo his trousers and gripped the arms of the chair for dear life.

He was never going to be able to look at the chair the same way ever again. Trousers down around his ankles, bare bum on the leather padding, slouched, legs spread wide, Xander’s head moving between his thighs-- Bloody hell, the man’s mouth was marvelous. He was marvelous. He was Giles’s now. Giles would have laughed in sheer joy, but he didn’t have the breath. Lord, yes, this was what he’d been seeking in those fantasies, those secret moments when he was alone in his bed and in his head, wishing for something he didn’t understand. Why his heart squeezed in his chest when Xander smiled at him. He remembered what Xander’s penis had looked like, in bed last night, what it had felt like in his hand. What it might feel like when he did this for Xander for the first time, what he would do with lips and tongue, how Xander would moan when he came–

That was enough and Giles had no time even to gasp out a warning before he spent himself into Xander’s mouth. When he opened his eyes again he found Xander looking smug, wiping his mouth. Kiss-swollen lips. Marvelous lips. Giles was too wrung out to feel smug. In another moment, Xander was up and in his lap again, and kissing him. Giles tasted himself in Xander’s mouth. He hadn’t tasted Xander yet that way, or any other man for that matter. It was time to learn. He’d finally found what he wanted. He stroked Xander’s hair with trembling hands and let his racing heart slow.

Xander pulled back. “You like? Was good?”

“Like? Xander-- Lord, I love you.” Xander stared at him, eye wide in surprise. Giles backpedaled from his own emotion, and shook his head. “I’m sorry. That was insufficiently, er, macho.”

Xander shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine. Guys say that stuff to each other, too. It’s more, um…”

“It’s all right if you don’t–”

“No, I was just thinking that I hadn’t ever heard another guy say it to me. I kinda like it. From you. Say it as much as you like.”

And there went his heart again, squeezing or expanding or something that felt wonderful. Giles said, “Right then.”

Office Hours

giles/xander mature

1165 words; reading time 4 min.

first posted here

on 2008/03/10

tags: c:giles, c:xander, genre:romance, happy, post-series, slayers, f:btvs, p:giles/xander, s:cloud_animals