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janedavitt Jul. 22nd, 2004 01:53 pm)
janedavitt Jul. 22nd, 2004 01:53 pm)Here is Chapter Four of this fic, written with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wesleysgirl.
Previous chapters are here:
Sick of Shadows
Sick of Shadows by Jane Davitt and Wesleysgirl
Chapter Four
Walking away from Wesley without moving too quickly and arousing his suspicions took what little of Giles' control was left after the kiss. He closed his bedroom door and leaned back against it, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding in a sickening, irregular beat. If he'd had time, he would've sunk to his bed and tried to calm down, but he didn't.
Something was wrong.
Something was wrong with Wesley.
And he didn't know what it was, and he didn't know what to do, but he'd lived in Sunnydale too long not to have developed what Xander called 'Spider senses' and what he, himself, called an awareness of the mystical at work in the mundane world. Possibly Xander's description was catchier...
A possible solution to a problem he still couldn't define came into his head. His eyes travelled around the room and paused at the bookshelf in the corner. On top of it was a small wooden box, filled with an assortment of objects. He took one step towards it, trying to remember if he'd seen what he was looking for the last time he'd opened it, but something made him turn around.
The door was opening.
"I'm ready, Wesley," he said, stepping back and dragging his eyes away from the box. "Let's go."
* * *
The drive to the magic shop was enough to bring all his doubts back, full force. Wesley sat beside him, chatting in a casual, friendly way, outlining plans for the day that Giles had to admit sounded appealing and doing nothing that was even slightly alarming. Within two miles, Giles was castigating himself for an overly active imagination and had come up with several explanations for Wesley's odd behaviour.
He was stressed; planning to tell me how he felt and worried about it... God, maybe he was showing off, even... I've been urging him to trust himself, to take charge more... he overdid it, that's all... and this morning... when he wanted to... well, so did I, but... and I rejected him again. He's going to be thinking I don't want him...
At the next red light, Giles leaned over and kissed Wesley, grinning at his look of surprise and letting the happiness come back.
* * *
Giles finished paying at the counter, taking the bags the assistant passed him with no more than a terse nod. She'd been particularly unhelpful today, and he was even more determined that this would be his last purchase.
He glanced around, looking for Wesley, and spotted him over by a display of stones, studying a large quartz crystal.
"Did you want that, too?" Giles called over to him.
Wesley shook his head as Giles came over to join him. He set the crystal back down where it had been. "No. I was just..." He shook his head again. "I don't know what I was doing."
"Waiting for me," Giles said. "Sorry; idiot woman tried to wrap the herbs in one package. I pointed out that if a few sage leaves got mixed in with the chamomile, someone could be walking around with their ears on backwards if they tried a translocation spell, and she looked at me as if I was mad." He sighed, giving Wesley a slightly rueful grin. "I'm being unreasonable, aren't I? Let's go, before I get us banned for life or something."
"You're not being unreasonable," Wesley said. "If we were banned, we'd just have to find somewhere else to shop. I'm not convinced that would be a bad thing. The internet might be an option, although I'd imagine we'd still want somewhere fairly local to get things on the spur of the moment."
They left the shop, the small brass bell over the door jingling as the door open and closed, heading toward where they'd parked the car.
Giles shifted the bags to one hand and began to search through his pockets for the car keys. "Wesley, can you just take these – " He broke off, glancing down the street at a group of three teenagers who were coming towards them, passing a can of beer they were almost certainly too young to be drinking between them and looking as if it wasn't the first they'd had. The one nearest the street took a last drink from it, tipping his head back at an exaggerated angle, and then threw the can into the gutter, narrowly missing the bonnet of a car parked a few yards in front of Giles'. "Idiots," Giles muttered without heat.
Keeping an eye on the teens as they jostled each other and cursed, Wesley ignored Giles' unfinished request about the bags.
One of the teenagers noticed his gaze and met it challengingly. "What you think you're looking at?" he asked, cocky, sharing a quick sideways grin with his mates as they came closer.
"Nothing," Wesley said, slowly and deliberately. Giles felt apprehension stir as he saw Wesley's lips curl into a smile that looked almost anticipatory. The shorter, brown-haired youth whistled slightly between his teeth, and the ringleader drew himself up taller in response, altering his path so that he was walking directly toward Wesley.
Immediately, Wesley stepped forward, the startled twitch that the boy gave revealing that he'd only been bluffing as Wesley grabbed him by the shirt front and spun him around. The young man appeared to be well-muscled, but it was clear from the way Wesley moved him that he was untrained, didn't know how to use his balance properly. In a moment Wesley had the boy's arm up behind his back, pulling it skyward until the youth was contorted with pain, struggling uselessly. "I think you need to be taught some manners," Wesley said, jerking the arm a bit higher.
"Fuck off! Let go of me!" The boy's voice rose high, panicked and shocked, as though the speed of Wesley's reaction had frightened him. His two friends backed off, exchanging glances.
"We don't want no trouble, mate," said the third one, moving slowly to the side. He might have been getting into position to circle around and rush Wesley, but there was a hesitancy to his movements that spoke more of a desire to retreat than attack.
Giles summed up the situation quickly and caught the eye of the youth who was moving, freezing him in place with a warning look. "I really wouldn't," he murmured.
It must have sounded convincing because the boy stepped back, and Giles turned his attention on Wesley, who was grinning as the boy he held began to sob out a mixture of threats and pleas in a high, panicked whimper.
Stepping into the road, he came up behind Wesley, who seemed intent on making the boy suffer and oblivious to everything else, and gripped his shoulder, pulling him away from the boy. "Wesley! That's enough!"
What happened next happened very quickly – Giles felt a jolt go through Wesley's body in response to his touch, then Wesley released the boy and spun around. His hands closed around Giles' throat, the momentum overbalancing them both and sending them crashing to the pavement with bruising force, all of the air shoved violently from Giles' lungs upon impact.
He couldn't do anything but stare up at Wesley, whose face was contorted with anger that faded suddenly to something more like confusion as he released his grip on Giles' throat.
"You're fucking mad! Want locking up, you do," Giles heard the boys calling. He could hear the uneven footsteps of their boots on the pavement as they ran off, even as he struggled to get his breath back.
Wesley was crouched beside Giles, not quite looking at him.
Giles sat up, coughing as he tried to catch his breath, one hand rubbing at his throat. He stared up at Wesley in silence, trying to believe that what he'd seen had been down to his imagination, and then stood, moving stiffly, not in the least surprised that Wesley didn't offer to help him up. He'd dropped the shopping bags when he went to Wesley, and they'd fallen over, spilling some of the contents onto the pavement. Bending down, Giles picked up the scattered items, shoving them carelessly into the bags, and then straightened.
"Get in the car, Wesley," he said. "We'll take all this back home and then we'll carry on having... fun, shall we?"
He couldn't help letting his anger show, just a little, but he wasn't too concerned about hurting Wesley's feelings. Wesley's eyes were blue, and they tended to stay that way, no matter what happened. The eyes that had glared down at him from a rage-twisted face had, just for a moment, been a deep brown, and in some ways it was a relief to have certainty replace confusion.
So it hadn't been Wesley who'd threatened to kill people – though Giles still wanted to know where that bloody gun had come from – and it hadn't been Wesley who'd just tried to throttle him. Wesley's body, perhaps, but it was no longer under his control.
It hadn't been Wesley who seduced him either, but Giles shoved that thought aside for later.
Forcing a smile, he reached out and patted Wesley's arm. "Remind me not to surprise you in the middle of a fight again, will you?"
Wesley's eyes were blue again, watching Giles warily. "You shouldn't grab me from behind like that," he said. "You're lucky I didn't kill you." He didn't sound particularly distressed at the idea and seemed to accept that Giles was being sincere, as he turned and got into the car cooperatively enough.
The ride back to the flat seemed long to Giles, who was mulling over what on earth had happened – and when – in his mind while trying to carry on a seemingly normal conversation with a Wesley who was obviously not himself without giving away that he knew things weren't right. He was reassured that he'd been doing a good enough job when, as they pulled into a parking space near the flat, Wesley reached over and slid a hand up Giles' thigh suggestively.
"I can think of something fun we can do today," Wesley said, the tips of his fingers brushing over the front of Giles' trousers.
Repressing the urge to flick Wesley's hand away, in much the same way as he would've done if it'd been a poisonous spider, Giles smiled at him. "Why don't we get inside and you can tell me all about it?"
He opened the car door and glanced back, seeing Wesley's face shift from frustrated anger – Good Lord, did whatever was in there really think they could fuck in a car in broad daylight? – to a smile as false as his own.
"Hurry up, Wesley," he said, hoping the urgency in his voice would sound as if he was as eager to get to bed as the creature was, rather than gripped by an overpowering desire to get Wesley inside before he hurt someone else.
The walk to the flat was rather disturbing, as Giles couldn't allow himself to turn and keep an eye on Wesley if he didn't want to seem worthy of suspicion, and yet he couldn't help but feel that turning his back wasn't a wise move. He didn't sigh with relief until Wesley had closed the door to the flat behind them, and yet, before he could move toward his goal, he found himself being pushed up against the inside of the door, Wesley's body rubbing against his own.
"I had something like this in mind," Wesley said, kissing Giles with startling force.
Thinking about how very different his reaction would have been to a kiss from Wesley the night before, Giles did his best to return it with enthusiasm, closing his eyes and trying to pretend it really was Wesley's mouth on his, Wesley's tongue running teasingly against his lips. His body, with a lack of discrimination he couldn't bring himself to feel grateful for, responded, and he felt his cock harden slightly as a far from gentle hand cupped it, squeezing it roughly.
"Bedroom," he muttered, breaking the kiss. "Want to do this properly..."
Wesley gave him another squeeze and kiss before letting him go free, stepping back and kicking off his shoes. "I'll just grab a bottle of something," he said, as he headed toward the kitchen, where they kept the liquor. "Might as well have a really good time."
Giles took the time to swipe the back of his hand over his lips, swallowing back nausea, and moved quickly to his bedroom, praying to any god that might be listening that the Ithcarian amulet was in the box and not amongst the stuff he'd still got in storage following his return to England after Buffy's death. It was a pretty little thing; he'd almost given it to Dawn for her birthday once, but she'd dropped so many hints about a certain CD that he'd braved the trauma of asking for it in a shamed whisper at the music shop instead. Aside from its decorative qualities, it had the ability to render the wearer immune to possession. Whether or not it would work when someone already was possessed, he didn't know.
Which was why he slipped a dagger under the pillow as well as the necklace.
He'd just straightened up and started to make a show of unbuttoning his shirt when Wesley appeared in the door, bottle of whisky in one hand and the cap in the other, clearly just having taken a large swallow. He sauntered over to Giles and offered the bottle to him, tossing the cap onto the top of the nearest chest of drawers casually. "Here, have some. Loosen up."
His best single malt. Suppressing an irrational flare of irritation, Giles took the bottle and drank from it, wishing he could wipe the bottle clean before his lips touched it. "This should do the job well enough," he said dryly, putting it down on the bedside table. He smiled at Wesley, trying to work out how to get the necklace around his neck. Possibly if Wesley repeated his actions in the shower...
"You're looking very overdressed for someone who wants to have fun," he said, letting his eyes wander over Wesley's body as he continued to unbutton his shirt. The amulet had to be touching bare skin to work but he didn't think that would be a problem.
Fortunately, Wesley seemed to be easy to manipulate in this state – he quickly began to remove his own shirt, just as casually and unselfconsciously as he had the night before even though they hadn't been in the habit of being shirtless in front of each other until then. As soon as he was naked to the waist he stepped closer, pushing Giles' shirt off his shoulders.
Wesley leaned in, his mouth closing on Giles' throat, teeth nipping gently – Giles was grateful for that, at least – as one arm wrapped around Giles' waist. Giles found himself being pushed slowly down onto the bed with Wesley on top of him, straddling his waist as his hot mouth seared a path along Giles' collarbone and then down to lick one nipple.
Hoping that this would end before his body betrayed him with an arousal he knew he'd be deeply ashamed of when this was over, Giles sighed with pretended appreciation and ran his fingers through Wesley's hair, then slid his hand around the back of his neck.
"God, Wesley," he whispered. "We've wasted so much time..."
"We won't waste any more," Wesley said, sucking at Giles' nipple fiercely, clearly intent on what he was doing to Giles' body. He moved down between Giles' legs, tracing his tongue down over Giles' ribs to his stomach while working to undo the front of his trousers.
Perfect. Giles slid his hand under the pillow and withdrew it with the necklace dangling from his fingers. Taking advantage of Wesley's concentration and shifting his hips in a way that he hoped would pass for impatience, but was actually meant to hinder Wesley's attempts to undress him, he took the necklace in both hands, spreading them so it made as wide a circle as possible.
Then he sat up, dropped it neatly over Wesley's head and took advantage of Wesley's momentary bewilderment to push him off him.
The amulet came to rest against Wesley's chest as he rolled onto his back, and he began to convulse, his mouth opening in an anguished scream, his body arching as if he were being electrocuted. His eyes flashed brown again and his hand shot out, clamping around Giles' wrist. "What have you done?" the demon demanded. "No! No!"
Giles slammed his free hand over the amulet, holding it in place. "I cast you out," he said. "Leave this shell and return whence you came, in the name of Ithcar."
The archaic phrasing rose naturally to his lips, and he watched, hardly daring to hope it'd worked, as the anger drained from Wesley's eyes and the crushing grip on his wrist slackened.
wesleysgirl. Previous chapters are here:
Sick of Shadows
Sick of Shadows by Jane Davitt and Wesleysgirl
Chapter Four
Walking away from Wesley without moving too quickly and arousing his suspicions took what little of Giles' control was left after the kiss. He closed his bedroom door and leaned back against it, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding in a sickening, irregular beat. If he'd had time, he would've sunk to his bed and tried to calm down, but he didn't.
Something was wrong.
Something was wrong with Wesley.
And he didn't know what it was, and he didn't know what to do, but he'd lived in Sunnydale too long not to have developed what Xander called 'Spider senses' and what he, himself, called an awareness of the mystical at work in the mundane world. Possibly Xander's description was catchier...
A possible solution to a problem he still couldn't define came into his head. His eyes travelled around the room and paused at the bookshelf in the corner. On top of it was a small wooden box, filled with an assortment of objects. He took one step towards it, trying to remember if he'd seen what he was looking for the last time he'd opened it, but something made him turn around.
The door was opening.
"I'm ready, Wesley," he said, stepping back and dragging his eyes away from the box. "Let's go."
The drive to the magic shop was enough to bring all his doubts back, full force. Wesley sat beside him, chatting in a casual, friendly way, outlining plans for the day that Giles had to admit sounded appealing and doing nothing that was even slightly alarming. Within two miles, Giles was castigating himself for an overly active imagination and had come up with several explanations for Wesley's odd behaviour.
He was stressed; planning to tell me how he felt and worried about it... God, maybe he was showing off, even... I've been urging him to trust himself, to take charge more... he overdid it, that's all... and this morning... when he wanted to... well, so did I, but... and I rejected him again. He's going to be thinking I don't want him...
At the next red light, Giles leaned over and kissed Wesley, grinning at his look of surprise and letting the happiness come back.
Giles finished paying at the counter, taking the bags the assistant passed him with no more than a terse nod. She'd been particularly unhelpful today, and he was even more determined that this would be his last purchase.
He glanced around, looking for Wesley, and spotted him over by a display of stones, studying a large quartz crystal.
"Did you want that, too?" Giles called over to him.
Wesley shook his head as Giles came over to join him. He set the crystal back down where it had been. "No. I was just..." He shook his head again. "I don't know what I was doing."
"Waiting for me," Giles said. "Sorry; idiot woman tried to wrap the herbs in one package. I pointed out that if a few sage leaves got mixed in with the chamomile, someone could be walking around with their ears on backwards if they tried a translocation spell, and she looked at me as if I was mad." He sighed, giving Wesley a slightly rueful grin. "I'm being unreasonable, aren't I? Let's go, before I get us banned for life or something."
"You're not being unreasonable," Wesley said. "If we were banned, we'd just have to find somewhere else to shop. I'm not convinced that would be a bad thing. The internet might be an option, although I'd imagine we'd still want somewhere fairly local to get things on the spur of the moment."
They left the shop, the small brass bell over the door jingling as the door open and closed, heading toward where they'd parked the car.
Giles shifted the bags to one hand and began to search through his pockets for the car keys. "Wesley, can you just take these – " He broke off, glancing down the street at a group of three teenagers who were coming towards them, passing a can of beer they were almost certainly too young to be drinking between them and looking as if it wasn't the first they'd had. The one nearest the street took a last drink from it, tipping his head back at an exaggerated angle, and then threw the can into the gutter, narrowly missing the bonnet of a car parked a few yards in front of Giles'. "Idiots," Giles muttered without heat.
Keeping an eye on the teens as they jostled each other and cursed, Wesley ignored Giles' unfinished request about the bags.
One of the teenagers noticed his gaze and met it challengingly. "What you think you're looking at?" he asked, cocky, sharing a quick sideways grin with his mates as they came closer.
"Nothing," Wesley said, slowly and deliberately. Giles felt apprehension stir as he saw Wesley's lips curl into a smile that looked almost anticipatory. The shorter, brown-haired youth whistled slightly between his teeth, and the ringleader drew himself up taller in response, altering his path so that he was walking directly toward Wesley.
Immediately, Wesley stepped forward, the startled twitch that the boy gave revealing that he'd only been bluffing as Wesley grabbed him by the shirt front and spun him around. The young man appeared to be well-muscled, but it was clear from the way Wesley moved him that he was untrained, didn't know how to use his balance properly. In a moment Wesley had the boy's arm up behind his back, pulling it skyward until the youth was contorted with pain, struggling uselessly. "I think you need to be taught some manners," Wesley said, jerking the arm a bit higher.
"Fuck off! Let go of me!" The boy's voice rose high, panicked and shocked, as though the speed of Wesley's reaction had frightened him. His two friends backed off, exchanging glances.
"We don't want no trouble, mate," said the third one, moving slowly to the side. He might have been getting into position to circle around and rush Wesley, but there was a hesitancy to his movements that spoke more of a desire to retreat than attack.
Giles summed up the situation quickly and caught the eye of the youth who was moving, freezing him in place with a warning look. "I really wouldn't," he murmured.
It must have sounded convincing because the boy stepped back, and Giles turned his attention on Wesley, who was grinning as the boy he held began to sob out a mixture of threats and pleas in a high, panicked whimper.
Stepping into the road, he came up behind Wesley, who seemed intent on making the boy suffer and oblivious to everything else, and gripped his shoulder, pulling him away from the boy. "Wesley! That's enough!"
What happened next happened very quickly – Giles felt a jolt go through Wesley's body in response to his touch, then Wesley released the boy and spun around. His hands closed around Giles' throat, the momentum overbalancing them both and sending them crashing to the pavement with bruising force, all of the air shoved violently from Giles' lungs upon impact.
He couldn't do anything but stare up at Wesley, whose face was contorted with anger that faded suddenly to something more like confusion as he released his grip on Giles' throat.
"You're fucking mad! Want locking up, you do," Giles heard the boys calling. He could hear the uneven footsteps of their boots on the pavement as they ran off, even as he struggled to get his breath back.
Wesley was crouched beside Giles, not quite looking at him.
Giles sat up, coughing as he tried to catch his breath, one hand rubbing at his throat. He stared up at Wesley in silence, trying to believe that what he'd seen had been down to his imagination, and then stood, moving stiffly, not in the least surprised that Wesley didn't offer to help him up. He'd dropped the shopping bags when he went to Wesley, and they'd fallen over, spilling some of the contents onto the pavement. Bending down, Giles picked up the scattered items, shoving them carelessly into the bags, and then straightened.
"Get in the car, Wesley," he said. "We'll take all this back home and then we'll carry on having... fun, shall we?"
He couldn't help letting his anger show, just a little, but he wasn't too concerned about hurting Wesley's feelings. Wesley's eyes were blue, and they tended to stay that way, no matter what happened. The eyes that had glared down at him from a rage-twisted face had, just for a moment, been a deep brown, and in some ways it was a relief to have certainty replace confusion.
So it hadn't been Wesley who'd threatened to kill people – though Giles still wanted to know where that bloody gun had come from – and it hadn't been Wesley who'd just tried to throttle him. Wesley's body, perhaps, but it was no longer under his control.
It hadn't been Wesley who seduced him either, but Giles shoved that thought aside for later.
Forcing a smile, he reached out and patted Wesley's arm. "Remind me not to surprise you in the middle of a fight again, will you?"
Wesley's eyes were blue again, watching Giles warily. "You shouldn't grab me from behind like that," he said. "You're lucky I didn't kill you." He didn't sound particularly distressed at the idea and seemed to accept that Giles was being sincere, as he turned and got into the car cooperatively enough.
The ride back to the flat seemed long to Giles, who was mulling over what on earth had happened – and when – in his mind while trying to carry on a seemingly normal conversation with a Wesley who was obviously not himself without giving away that he knew things weren't right. He was reassured that he'd been doing a good enough job when, as they pulled into a parking space near the flat, Wesley reached over and slid a hand up Giles' thigh suggestively.
"I can think of something fun we can do today," Wesley said, the tips of his fingers brushing over the front of Giles' trousers.
Repressing the urge to flick Wesley's hand away, in much the same way as he would've done if it'd been a poisonous spider, Giles smiled at him. "Why don't we get inside and you can tell me all about it?"
He opened the car door and glanced back, seeing Wesley's face shift from frustrated anger – Good Lord, did whatever was in there really think they could fuck in a car in broad daylight? – to a smile as false as his own.
"Hurry up, Wesley," he said, hoping the urgency in his voice would sound as if he was as eager to get to bed as the creature was, rather than gripped by an overpowering desire to get Wesley inside before he hurt someone else.
The walk to the flat was rather disturbing, as Giles couldn't allow himself to turn and keep an eye on Wesley if he didn't want to seem worthy of suspicion, and yet he couldn't help but feel that turning his back wasn't a wise move. He didn't sigh with relief until Wesley had closed the door to the flat behind them, and yet, before he could move toward his goal, he found himself being pushed up against the inside of the door, Wesley's body rubbing against his own.
"I had something like this in mind," Wesley said, kissing Giles with startling force.
Thinking about how very different his reaction would have been to a kiss from Wesley the night before, Giles did his best to return it with enthusiasm, closing his eyes and trying to pretend it really was Wesley's mouth on his, Wesley's tongue running teasingly against his lips. His body, with a lack of discrimination he couldn't bring himself to feel grateful for, responded, and he felt his cock harden slightly as a far from gentle hand cupped it, squeezing it roughly.
"Bedroom," he muttered, breaking the kiss. "Want to do this properly..."
Wesley gave him another squeeze and kiss before letting him go free, stepping back and kicking off his shoes. "I'll just grab a bottle of something," he said, as he headed toward the kitchen, where they kept the liquor. "Might as well have a really good time."
Giles took the time to swipe the back of his hand over his lips, swallowing back nausea, and moved quickly to his bedroom, praying to any god that might be listening that the Ithcarian amulet was in the box and not amongst the stuff he'd still got in storage following his return to England after Buffy's death. It was a pretty little thing; he'd almost given it to Dawn for her birthday once, but she'd dropped so many hints about a certain CD that he'd braved the trauma of asking for it in a shamed whisper at the music shop instead. Aside from its decorative qualities, it had the ability to render the wearer immune to possession. Whether or not it would work when someone already was possessed, he didn't know.
Which was why he slipped a dagger under the pillow as well as the necklace.
He'd just straightened up and started to make a show of unbuttoning his shirt when Wesley appeared in the door, bottle of whisky in one hand and the cap in the other, clearly just having taken a large swallow. He sauntered over to Giles and offered the bottle to him, tossing the cap onto the top of the nearest chest of drawers casually. "Here, have some. Loosen up."
His best single malt. Suppressing an irrational flare of irritation, Giles took the bottle and drank from it, wishing he could wipe the bottle clean before his lips touched it. "This should do the job well enough," he said dryly, putting it down on the bedside table. He smiled at Wesley, trying to work out how to get the necklace around his neck. Possibly if Wesley repeated his actions in the shower...
"You're looking very overdressed for someone who wants to have fun," he said, letting his eyes wander over Wesley's body as he continued to unbutton his shirt. The amulet had to be touching bare skin to work but he didn't think that would be a problem.
Fortunately, Wesley seemed to be easy to manipulate in this state – he quickly began to remove his own shirt, just as casually and unselfconsciously as he had the night before even though they hadn't been in the habit of being shirtless in front of each other until then. As soon as he was naked to the waist he stepped closer, pushing Giles' shirt off his shoulders.
Wesley leaned in, his mouth closing on Giles' throat, teeth nipping gently – Giles was grateful for that, at least – as one arm wrapped around Giles' waist. Giles found himself being pushed slowly down onto the bed with Wesley on top of him, straddling his waist as his hot mouth seared a path along Giles' collarbone and then down to lick one nipple.
Hoping that this would end before his body betrayed him with an arousal he knew he'd be deeply ashamed of when this was over, Giles sighed with pretended appreciation and ran his fingers through Wesley's hair, then slid his hand around the back of his neck.
"God, Wesley," he whispered. "We've wasted so much time..."
"We won't waste any more," Wesley said, sucking at Giles' nipple fiercely, clearly intent on what he was doing to Giles' body. He moved down between Giles' legs, tracing his tongue down over Giles' ribs to his stomach while working to undo the front of his trousers.
Perfect. Giles slid his hand under the pillow and withdrew it with the necklace dangling from his fingers. Taking advantage of Wesley's concentration and shifting his hips in a way that he hoped would pass for impatience, but was actually meant to hinder Wesley's attempts to undress him, he took the necklace in both hands, spreading them so it made as wide a circle as possible.
Then he sat up, dropped it neatly over Wesley's head and took advantage of Wesley's momentary bewilderment to push him off him.
The amulet came to rest against Wesley's chest as he rolled onto his back, and he began to convulse, his mouth opening in an anguished scream, his body arching as if he were being electrocuted. His eyes flashed brown again and his hand shot out, clamping around Giles' wrist. "What have you done?" the demon demanded. "No! No!"
Giles slammed his free hand over the amulet, holding it in place. "I cast you out," he said. "Leave this shell and return whence you came, in the name of Ithcar."
The archaic phrasing rose naturally to his lips, and he watched, hardly daring to hope it'd worked, as the anger drained from Wesley's eyes and the crushing grip on his wrist slackened.