I. Baptism of Desire, Louise Erdrich
Giles stood in the shower, letting the cold water slide down his back. He'd been taking a lot of cold showers lately. He knew his attraction was wrong -- not only was the boy less than half his age, he was also a student. Giles could lose his job over this.
Yet here he stood icing himself down like a teenager, hormones in overdrive. He couldn't get the image of the young man out of his head. He stood under the water, praying for it to wash him of his desires, as he'd done every night this week.
And as on every other night, he eventually accepted that it wasn't working and reached down to stroke himself to completion. Images of the young man on his knees filled his mind. As he shot into his hand, Giles heard himself whisper, “Oz.”
II. The Unswept Room, Sharon Olds
Oz lay on his unmade bed watching a cigarette burn down in his hand. The scent of cloves filled the room and Giles filled his mind. Oz looked around. Instead of a room littered with dirty clothes, he saw the coffee shop they had snuck off to a few weeks earlier.
They'd gone to another town where they didn't have to be so careful. Unnoticed and unnotable, they'd sat in the cafe drinking tea, knees touching, talking of books, music, places they wanted to see. Giles had smiled when their hands brushed as each stretched for the teapot.
Oz lifted the cigarette to his lips and inhaled, tasting Giles. He lay on his tangled sheets, turned his head on the pillow and saw Giles smiling at him, reaching for his hand. He was in love, he had to be. What else could this twisting, flipping feeling in his stomach be?
III. Cherry, Mary Karr
Giles was not Oz's first lover, and Oz was certainly not his. Neither was the first male lover for the other either. Despite that, their first time together they had both felt as if everything was new, never before experienced. There was an innocence in the way they touched and were touched.
Every kiss was their first -- soft, tender, sweet. Giles tugging at Oz's lower lip with his teeth. He would always remember Oz's lips that night -- cool and red from the cherry Popsicle he'd been licking as he gazed across the room at the new man in town. The way he had devoured that tongue of ice and stared through the lashes of heavy lids -- Giles knew an invitation when he saw one. And while a billion reasons why he should have said no had crossed his mind, he never had been able to resist cherries.
IV. American Knees, Shawn Wong
Oz shivered as Giles knelt before him, running his hands up the inside of his legs, stopping at his knees. He was sensitive there. Light touches, kisses, behind the knee made him melt.
Giles reached up to grab his hips--to stop him from falling as his knees buckled. He wavered as Giles traced a scar along the left knee -- a skateboarding accident from long before his arrival in Sunnydale.
Giles moved to the other knee and its other scars. Kissed around to the inside, slowly moving up his inner thigh. He liked it when Giles kissed higher -- the knees were a wonderful place to start, but he preferred to have Giles cradled between them, thrusting lazily inside his tight flesh.
V. Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, Jeanette Winterson
“It's like eating an orange.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“When you come in my mouth. It's like when you bite into an orange and it squirts you in the back of your throat, but you don't mind cuz it tastes so good.”
Giles stared at him, and Oz imagined he would have reached to clean his glasses had he been wearing them.
“You know -- sweet yet tangy, sometimes a bit tart? Always squirts you when you least expect it?”
Giles cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I should be happy you swallow rather than spitting out the seeds.”
“Never,” Oz whispered before taking Giles into his mouth.
VI. Eating Chinese Food Naked, Mei Ng
Giles looked at the microwave clock. “Good thing we ordered food earlier, there's no way we'd get delivery now.” He pulled the take-out cartons from the fridge and began handing them to Oz. “Chopsticks and back to bed?”
Oz nodded, accepted a few more cartons from Giles, and headed back to the bedroom. By the time Giles made it upstairs to join him, Oz had already dug into the carton of lo mein and was greedily slurping up noodles.
“Hungry?” Giles laughed.
Oz nodded and continued to chew while reaching with his chopsticks for a dumpling. “Mmm.”
Giles smiled. He loved the sounds Oz made when filled with pleasure -- whether from food, sex, music, it didn't matter. He enjoyed things with every bit of himself. His pleasure was contagious. And Giles couldn't get enough.
VII. Written on the Body, Jeanette Winterson
When Giles looked in the mirror he saw wrinkles and middle age. He'd kept himself fit training Buffy, but he worried that someone younger, leaner, smoother, would catch Oz's eye.
Oz, on the other hand, was captivated by Giles' body -- as in love with the flesh as with the mind. The story of Giles' life was mapped out on that flesh. “What kind of demon gave you this?” he asked, tracing a jagged line along his lover’s side.
“That would be from my cousin Jane. Fencing practice.”
“Aren’t there special swords for practice? Rounded tips or something.”
“Yes. And I used them... Jane, however,... didn't.” Giles chuckled. “She never was one to follow the rules.”
“You weren't much for rules back then either,” Oz reminded him, touching the tattoo on his arm.
“No,” his tone turned serious. “Fortunately for us, I never have been very good at sticking to the rules.”
VIII. Heart of Darkness, Joseph Conrad
One might have thought Oz the more “evil” of the two. He was the werewolf after all. But Giles was the one to fear. Danger lurked behind spectacles and beneath dowdy dress. The darkness that was Ripper hidden within.
Giles' demon had been banished yet its weight remained. He had been aware, willing -- and the heaviness of guilt was his reward.
But Oz. Oz had learned to control his wolf, had accepted it. Accepted the things he'd done and moved forward. He spent his energy on being one with the wolf. No room was left for darkness.
IX. Tales of Burning Love, Louise Erdrich
The first time Giles entered him, it burned -- a lovely burn that told him he was complete. Now there was another burn -- the wolf raged like fire beneath his skin, heat rolling off him in waves.
“So tight,” Giles hissed as he breached Oz's body.
Right after Oz was bit, they'd decided to cool things off. Not even two weeks later, they were back together -- their desire stronger than before. Something inside called them to each other. The fire blazed hotter and hotter with each day.
“Please,” Oz whimpered.
They moved slowly, drawing out their pleasure. Giles leaned down and nipped Oz's chest, causing him to arch and grip the bars of the headboard tighter. They no longer used restraints -- he'd learned to control the wolf -- but he didn't always trust himself not to scratch Giles as the fire of his orgasm ripped through his body.
X. The Night Listener, Armistead Maupin
Oz loved curling up in bed with Giles, listening to him tell the stories of his misspent youth. His mind sometimes wandered -- would these secret moments with Giles someday be his “misspent youth”? Or would they be together forever?
He looked up at Giles and gazed into his eyes until whatever he'd been saying was forgotten. “Love you,” he murmured as he leaned in for a kiss. “Tell me about something good. Something you're proud of. Something that makes you happy.”
Without hesitation Giles smiled, “Last year you stopped by here to pick up a book and you stayed.”
A small smile pulled at Oz's mouth. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Giles whispered as he tightened his embrace.
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