Anya's Random Musing's

Sometimes men stare at me in public and I wonder if my old face is back. I
wonder if I am Anyanka again and run to a mirror. I see that I’m still human
and part of me feels disappointed, but another part of me feels relieved. I
guess they look at me because my clothes are tight and I'm not a bad looking
woman. I’d look at me too because, let’s face it, Sunnydale doesn’t exactly
have it’s share of sexy women.

Sexy men are in abundance here though.

I’m looking at Giles right now. He’s chewing on his eyeglasses while he
flips through a book about prophecies. Every so often, he lifts his cup of
tea to his lips and takes a sip and every time he does it, his eyes crinkle
a little around the edges. He has nice eyes. Blue eyes that seem to twinkle
and that’s pretty impressive considering all he has seen.

His hands are big around the cup and now I’m fascinated with watching him
turn the pages of the book. He has a ring on his pinky and I’m tempted to
ask what the design is for because I know I’ve seen it. It’s something to do
with his family, I think. Page after page, he thumbs through one book after
another, intent on finding what he’s looking for.

I wonder what he would think if he knew that I consider him dashing and
debonair.  I bet he would drop his cup, or at the very least give himself a
paper cut, if I blurted out that I’d like to see him naked. It takes all my
self-reserve, and the fact that Xander is massaging my foot, not to say
that.

Spike just walked into the room and he’s leering at Buffy. He flops beside
her on the sofa and distracts me because out of the blue, he lifts a pillow
and pops her on the head with it. Apparently, he can hit people with things
that can’t kill them because he doesn’t grab his head and howl. She glares
at him for a second and then lifts her foot and kicks him in the shin.

While they scream at each other, I watch him.

God, he’s hot.

Figuratively, that is.

He’s barefoot and his jeans are hanging low on his hips. As he wrestles
around with Buffy, his shirt rides up and I can see his stomach muscles. I
choke a little on the cracker I’m eating and quickly take a sip of water.
Giles yells at them, his accent thick because he’s agitated, and I look at
him again. I wonder what he would sound like when he’s having an orgasm.
Something tells me the accent would be as thick as the cock between his
legs. I want to see.

Then I look at Spike as he tosses the Slayer off his lap and flips the
television on. He props his feet up, nice large feet, and I smile a little,
wondering if what they say about men with large feet is true.

Glancing at Xander, I frown.

It’s not.

Spike sucks noisily on his cup of blood and I watch his face change. He
doesn’t seem to mind at all that it’s a disgusting habit to belch and fires
one off, earning a groan from Willow and another kick from Buffy, but I don’
t react.

It’s endearing how annoying he is.

His hair is wet from the shower and sticking up in a couple of places from
his fight with Buffy and some water has dripped and is running down his
neck. I bet it would be like licking a Popsicle to trace it down onto his
back with my tongue. I’m tempted to throw my water on him and force him to
take his shirt off so I can see his chest.

He glances my way and makes a motion with his hands that says, ‘What are you
staring at?’

I glance away quickly and wait for him to become engrossed in the television
before I dare look back again. The flicker from whatever movie he is
watching, dances across his face, making his cheekbones look even deeper and
I wonder if he misses having a mirror. If I knew I was as striking as he is
and couldn’t see myself, I’d find an artist to paint my image everyday.

God, I’ve been a human too long.

Xander is sitting in the floor and my leg is over his shoulder. He’s stopped
rubbing my foot and is running his chin stubble up and down my calf.
Sometimes my legs are around him. He’s very … different than most men. Like
right now, he’s staring at a book that is supposed to be about Demonology,
but he has put a dirty magazine in the open pages and he’s staring at some
girl’s butterfly tattoo.

Maybe he thinks I’m blind and don’t see it. Maybe I am, because Giles just
stood up and headed for the bookcase again and his ass is at eye level
beside me. My hands clutch into a fist and I crush my packet of crackers,
visualizing that it’s the cheek of his ass in my palm. I smell something
spicy, his cologne maybe, or maybe he has a spicy ass, as he leans down and
oh … this is torment.

Now it is his jawline that is only a few inches away. He’s studying books on
a shelf and I can hear him breathing as he scans the titles. This is even
better than his ass. I close my eyes and concentrate on the sound of his
breath, imagining him on top of me, panting and sweating and sipping tea?
No, scratch that, kissing me. What would I give to be his cup of tea?

Dammit, Buffy has to be the center of attention and now she’s making a fuss
over television programs. I want to scream at her that Spike is more
interesting anyway and to watch him instead. Giles stands up and starts back
across the room and I’m mad now because I wanted to at least finish my
freakin’ wet daydream.

Spike grabs the Slayer’s thigh and pinches, causing her to buck wildly and I
smile. I’m suddenly struck with the feeling that she has bucked wildly
underneath him before. His hands are sure and skilled on her flesh and I
wonder if anyone else notices the way he lets his fingertips linger over the
slight curve of her inner thigh before he moves back to his place on the
sofa. I can tell by looking at her face and the way she raises an eyebrow at
him that she notices.

And she’s practically inviting more.

I’d invite more too. I try not to appear obvious and watch the way he tries
to talk to her with his eyes. One eyebrow, the one with the scar, arches a
little and he trails the hand that was on her leg over his lips, licking
delicately. Oh god, I swear I’ll have to fall in the floor and thrash wildly
if I see his tongue again. When he pulls his hand away and grabs her ankle,
I jump a little, almost like I can feel his hands on me instead.

Xander turns to glance at me and says, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, I had a cramp between my- I mean-in my leg.” I pull my leg off his
shoulder and close them tightly, drawing them to my chest and relish the way
I’m tightening down there.

My crackers are forgotten and I glance at Spike again. He gets this cocky
grin on his face that just tickles me. Buffy’s saying something about his
arrogance being nauseating. OH! He just mentioned Angel. Ouch, he has gone
below the belt! I don’t know what he said because now I’m filled with
memories of the, what was he, gorgeous is all I can remember. I vaguely
recall seeing him dancing with Buffy at the Prom. I really like the way he
looked on Thanksgiving though, all leathery and … large and lowery. Another
lickable popsicle.

Oh great. Buffy’s doing her hurt impression and has become sullen and
withdrawn. For a second, I wonder how she, with her tiny little frame, was
able to copulate with someone like Angel, who is quite massive. Ack, massive
makes me think of girth … which makes me think of sex with Angel again. I’m
making a mental note right now to become friends with Buffy long enough to
find out what he was like in bed.

Buffy just got up to go pout in the bathroom. I wonder how long it will take
Spike to follow. Ah, there he goes. No one pays them any mind, but I do. I’m
almost tempted to climb the tree outside of Giles’s window to watch and see
what they are doing. They can’t be doing it. Even me, queen of having
quickies, would be pissed at that. Someone is bound to miss them, so they’ll
have to hurry. I doubt Spike is into hurrying.

I imagine he’s apologizing to her. Maybe he's stroking her back, no-no,
maybe he is stroking her between the legs and growling that he didn't mean
to mention the poof in her ear. It’s been my experience that men, even demon
men, will swallow their pride if you try to withhold sex. Giles just glanced
down the hallway. He’s rubbing his eyes and I can almost hear the gears
turning in his head. I bet he’s about to get up and go see what they’re up
to. Big shock, he’s making his way upstairs. Color me surprised.

Color me surprised again when Willow glances up after him and slowly pulls
herself off the floor. She smiles apologetically and says that she needs to
use the restroom and goes up the stairs as well. What is it with people in
this room and bathrooms? Now it’s just me and Xander and I have to admit, I’
m shattered.

Is Willow fornicating with Giles?

I know Buffy is doing Spike, but Giles and Willow?

I usually see things coming from a mile away. I’m perplexed. Did I also
mention shattered?

What is Xander doing? The magazine just fell to the floor and he’s rushing
out the front door. Nevermind. The bathrooms are full and, apparently, he
needs to masturbate. I pick up the dirty magazine and flip the pages.

Something isn’t right. No, this isn’t right at all. Just reading the words
of this book make people concentrate on sex. It makes everyone concentrate
on sex.

I was concentrating so hard on sex that I missed my chance to have it with
Spike and Giles. And Xander’s on Giles’s stoop making moany sounds. What is
so wrong with me? Why would Willow and Buffy be chosen and not me? Am I
vile? Is my old face back?

I’ll show them. I can masturbate too. My hand is going heat seeking. Damn, I
’m so glad I have a skirt on. Mmmm, this is nice. My eyes are tightly closed
and I’m concentrating on my hand, forcing every nerve ending I have to pile
up there, between my legs. Oh, this is wonderful. I don’t need a man, I don’
t need anything.

“Anya!” Xander screams.

I wonder if he hurt himself. He rarely screams my name when he comes, even
if I’m the reason. I clench tightly and my orgasm rocks me. I’m shaking all
over. No, wait, someone is shaking me.

“Anya!” It’s Xander again.

My eyes fly open and I look up at him. “What?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Huh?”

He points at my hand and I see that my panties shoved aside and my fingers
are embedded. It takes me a second to realize that he’s in the floor, right
where he was at the beginning. Spike and Buffy are sitting on the couch and
he’s holding the remote defensively, clearly arguing. Giles’s jawline is
right at my face and he’s staring at me, too stunned to move.

That’s when it hits me.

My wet daydream has gotten out of hand.

I don’t know where reality ended and I began to slip away.

But I did have a nice orgasm and Giles is still breathing heavy.

I like these meetings at his place.

~Fin

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