Library Science Jargon That Sounds Dirty
by Marginalia

Giles walls himself in, day by day, one dusty book at a time. He traces spines with the tips of his fingers, centers himself with texture and scent while eyes drift closed behind uncharacteristically smudged glasses.

Eyes closing, and behind them flickers the face of the boy caged downstairs, flickers his face, flickers his hands pushing away jacket, unbuttoning vest and shirt, callused fingers running up his chest. Oz, lifting the glasses to safety, lifting himself, wrapped strong around Giles, kisses with furious tongue and teeth, rocking pale skin and sweat and eyes full of practiced heat.

Memories. Restricted Section.