'Pervasion' Part One by Jane Davitt & Wesleysgirl Giles/Spike/Xander NC17

[janedavitt]

Here is the sequel to Saturation, by wesleysgirl and me.

It's beta read once again by the lovely ginnylovesspike ::many hugs::

This fic is set about six months later than the end of Saturation and it focuses more on Giles and Spike, although Xander's never forgotten, certainly not by them. It's a total indulgence fic, even more so than Saturation was, and it's got a lot of smut, spankings and d/s elements.

It's not entirely gratuitous and unexpected if you read Saturation looking for the hints, but I'm not going to pretend this is canonical fic.

Fun to write though ;-))

As ever, writing with WG was a pure joy ::hugs her::

This part is about 8,0000 words and we'll post daily. The whole fic's about 35,000.



Pervasion

by Jane Davitt & Wesleysgirl

Part One

"Bloody hell." Spike collapsed down onto the mattress, gasping for air as his cock gave one final twitch.

"Tell me about it," Xander panted, lifting himself up from his elbows onto his hands again and licking his lips clean. Behind Xander, Giles thrust forward again, burying his cock deep inside Xander and driving another low cry from him. "God."

Giles was standing beside the bed, both hands on Xander's hips as he fucked him, and Spike, who'd just had a fantastic orgasm thanks to Xander's talented mouth, decided it looked as if Giles could use a hand. Or, more accurately, that Xander could.

"Here, love, like this," Spike said, getting up onto his own knees and pulling Xander upright onto his, distracting him from the change in position by kissing him. Xander moaned against Spike's lips as the angle of Giles' thrusts shifted inside him, and Spike wrapped his fingers around Xander's familiar, well-loved cock and stroked it.

He felt the tremor that ran through Xander and smiled as Xander's tongue slid deeply against his, tasting enough of himself to make the kiss even more intimate than normal. Then Giles leaned over and nuzzled fiercely into Xander's neck, biting down sharply, and Spike couldn't resist copying him, dragging his mouth over the long, taut line of Xander's neck so that he and Giles were marking both sides of it with teeth and tongue, sucking hard.

If Xander was going away for the weekend, he was going looking like someone owned him, Spike thought. His head filled with images of Xander striding across some city square in Rome, white-winged pigeons scattering and dark-eyed, glossy-haired Italian men eying him with interest. Spike growled against Xander's skin just picturing it, tightening his grip on Xander's cock possessively.

"Oh fuck," Xander gasped, and came, crying out loudly, his body convulsing between Spike and Giles.

"That's... God, Xander." Giles gave another couple of rough thrusts, the force of them shoving Xander's cock through the tight circle of Spike's hand and making Xander whimper. Spike looked up in time to see Giles' eyes close in ecstasy as release rushed over him.

There was another whimper from Xander a minute later when Giles withdrew, the three of them lowering themselves onto the mattress with heartfelt groans.

"I should go away more often," Xander said, running a hand down along Giles' flank appreciatively.

"You really shouldn't," Giles replied, beating Spike to it. "But as you are, I think making the most of you while we've got you is the least we can do."

Spike chuckled, rolling to his side and placing his hand over Xander's heart, feeling it race against his palm. "Think we've worn him out, Giles."

They'd done their best anyway. They'd gone to bed early the night before, but it'd been hours before they'd fallen asleep, satiated bodies lying tumbled and tangled under the sheets so that when they'd woken they'd carried on where they'd left off. Xander would be shifting a little uncomfortably in his first-class seat, Spike reflected with a satisfaction that was so stuffed with smugness there was barely room for sympathy. Xander had had both of them deep in him, as many times as they could, fucking him into a speechless, gasping, hollowed-out wreck, telling him they loved him more times than they'd kissed him -- and they'd never stopped doing that.

Spike let his hand leave damp, heated skin and travel up to Xander's mouth, tracing the full, kiss-swollen lips with fingers trembling slightly from exhaustion. Xander's brown eyes were sleepy and half-veiled under dark lashes, his skin suffused with a thousand touches. Come to think of it, maybe sending the lad off looking this debauched wasn't such a good idea...

Spike's cock was resting against his thigh, but as Xander's tongue ran slowly across his lips as if seeking out a lingering trace of all three of them, it stirred slightly. He groaned.

"Don't go," he begged, saying what he'd been thinking for days and had managed to keep from voicing. "Stay. Stay with us."

"Spike --" Giles said warningly. "Xander will be back on Monday, so there's really no need for this drama."

"It's only a couple of days," Xander said, rolling toward Spike and putting both arms around him, holding him close.

"I know," Spike said. Still, he couldn't help leaning in until his nose was pressed to Xander's collar bone, inhaling the scent of him, giving the salty skin there a quick lick. "Doesn't mean I'm not gonna miss you." It was hard, so fucking hard not to ask Xander, again, to stay. The thought of him going was, to be honest, driving Spike a bit mad.

"I'll miss you, too. Both of you." Xander pressed a kiss to Spike's temple and then turned his head to look at the clock. "Damn. If I don't get my ass in gear and get to the airport, all I'm going to be missing is my plane."

Reluctantly, Spike let him go, not quite meeting Giles' eyes as Xander got up and headed for the bathroom.

"It's understandable that Dawn wants him there for her birthday," Giles said softly, making no attempt to move closer to Spike, as if he knew Xander wasn't that easy to replace. "And equally so that Buffy's not entirely happy with you accompanying him. Don't take it personally; I think she's still recovering from when Xander and I told her we were together. That didn't go down well at all, you know." Giles smiled. "And do you really think you could spend a weekend with Andrew without blood being shed? Or, even worse, tears?"

"Probably not," Spike admitted. Giles' hand was resting on the mattress between them, and Spike slid his own over toward it until their fingers just touched. It was as much comfort as he was willing to ask for or accept, and Giles seemed to know that, too, because he still didn't move.

"Then why are you sulking?" Giles asked, with a faint edge to his voice. "Spike, Xander's looking forward to seeing his friends again; I won't have you spoiling his trip. Stop pouting and start smiling." Spike pulled his hand back, glaring at Giles, and Giles sighed, finally shifting a little closer. "I'm going to miss him, too, you know."

"Yeah, suppose you are," Spike allowed grudgingly.

"And it won't be a pleasant weekend for either of us if you're moping."

"I don't mope!"

Giles rolled his eyes. "Yes. You do. All the time." Relenting, he kissed Spike, his mouth so different from Xander's, less yielding but equally arousing when Giles wanted it to be. Now the kiss was more of an apology, conciliatory rather than passionate. "Tell me what we can do to stave off the moping and I promise you that we'll do it."

"Really?" Spike said thoughtfully, the gears in his brain turning.

"Have you ever known me to break a promise?" Giles asked. There was something in his voice that hinted, just faintly, that he was upset; something that got Spike's attention, making him forget momentarily about Xander and concentrate on Giles.

He turned toward Giles and met his eyes. "No," he said.

Giles relaxed. "Good. Then what would you like to do?"

As the shower shut off in the bathroom, Spike felt a slow grin spread across his face.

*****

The slow, relentless beat of the music would once have had Giles wanting to join the crowd dancing to it -- would have had him at the center of it, in fact -- but not now. Taking another sip from his drink and trying to ignore a light flashing directly into his eyes, he did his best not to give into the urge to look at his watch. Again. Watching the hands advance to the point where he could reasonably suggest that it was time they went home was all the comfort he had, but the death glare he'd received from Spike the last time he'd pushed up his shirt sleeve -- at 10.17 -- meant that 10.19 was going to have to pass unnoticed.

It wasn't that Spike's idea that they go to a club was a bad one. And making it a club where, from what Giles could see, most of the couples were gay, made it simpler, but dear God, why were they all so young? Even Spike looked a little -- no, not out of place. He was too relaxed for that, too confident. He was getting stared at, yes; both of them were from time to time -- but there was nothing but admiring appraisal in the looks Spike got, whereas Giles was uncomfortably aware that in his case the admiration was missing, replaced by puzzlement at best. They were probably wondering what the hell someone like Spike was doing with him, and he couldn't help feeling stung and letting his annoyance transfer, unfairly, to Spike, who should've known that this would happen.

He drained his drink and placed it carefully on the table, the clink of glass on wood lost in the bedlam. "Have you been here with Xander?" he asked Spike, speaking directly into Spike's ear after touching his arm to get his attention, which had been focused rather firmly on the dancers. Especially, Giles noted, on one slim boy who looked, if you weren't wearing your glasses -- and Spike wasn't -- a little like Xander, perhaps.

Spike leaned closer and said something that Giles couldn't hear over the blare of the music.

"What?" Giles said.

Inching his chair closer, Spike shouted, "Couple of times!" and then turned his attention back to the dance floor. Every once in a while he'd glance at Giles assessingly, though, which led Giles to wonder if this was some sort of test.

The current song ended, and the one that started up next was quieter, less deafening.

"You're having a shit time, aren't you?" Spike asked suddenly.

Giles debated being tactful and then shrugged. This was Spike, after all. He might be able to slip a polite evasion past Xander, but never Spike. "It's not where I'd have chosen to come certainly, but I suppose it's not that --"

A man in his early twenties walked past their table, a good deal of bare, tanned skin on display, his gaze flicking over Spike's outstretched legs and up with enough interest to make Giles' lips tighten even before the man winked at Spike. Who grinned and bit down teasingly on his bottom lip before shaking his head and taking another sip of his drink.

"Yes," Giles said as the man smiled, shrugged and walked away, giving Spike one final look over his shoulder. "I am. Sorry."

Try as he might, he couldn't make that sound sincere.

Spike looked disappointed and, Giles thought, angry. "Don't know why you bothered to come if you were gonna be like this," he said, pursing his lips.

"I came because I promised I would," Giles said.

"Guess I should have got you to promise you'd enjoy yourself," Spike said. "Might have been too much to ask, though." As if he'd made a decision, he stood up. The lights in the club made him look different from his usual self -- distant, far away. Like someone Giles didn't know. "If you can't show me a good time, guess I'll just have to find someone who can."

Without waiting for Giles to reply, he slipped onto the dance floor, disappearing briefly into the crowd of moving bodies.

Indignation held Giles in place for just a little too long to make following him easy. He couldn't believe that Spike had just walked away like that. He'd told Spike to feel free to dance of course, and Spike had earlier on -- never moving far from where Giles was sitting, catching his eye often enough to make Giles feel that each grind of the slim hips was for his benefit, each shimmy and squirm a taste of things to come. That had been fun, he admitted it, even though he wasn't relaxed enough to give Spike more than a slightly embarrassed smile when Spike blew him a kiss. But Spike had grown bored with shaking his head at people taking pity on him being forced to dance alone and had soon walked off the dance floor mid-song, flinging himself down in a chair by Giles and downing yet another drink.

But Giles didn't recall telling Spike it was fine for him to go looking for someone else.

Pushing through the crowd and feeling his lip curl with distaste as one sweat-wet body after another slid past him, he scanned the room for a bright head of hair and Spike's sharp, clear profile. The surging mass of people made it a virtually impossible quest. Giles paused after five minutes, when he'd circled the room without success, and then headed for the toilets. Sooner or later everyone ended up there.

The toilets were exactly what he'd expected; the floor sticky with spilled drinks and littered with cigarette ends, dimly lit and larger than they really needed to be for a club this size. The sounds coming from the cubicles were predictable and Giles, who'd fucked and been fucked in similar surroundings, found himself gritting his teeth at the idea of Xander pressed up against a thin, graffiti-laden wall making noises like that for anyone to hear.

The last cubicle had a door with a broken lock, and as Giles moved along the row, half-listening for a familiar voice without really thinking that Spike would have taken his threat this far, the door swung outwards. He glanced inside before he could stop himself, his gaze held by what he saw.

Spike had the young man -- the very young man, whose age or lack thereof was quite apparent in close quarters -- that they'd seen on the dance floor earlier pressed up against the wall, one hand tangled in the hair at the back of the boy's neck. The boy was flushed, eager, his swollen lips making it clear that Spike had been kissing him, although at that particular moment Spike wasn't doing anything more than talking to him in a low voice.

Then Spike's hips shifted slightly, and Giles was able to see that the dark haired young man, who really did look an awful lot like Xander in some ways, had undone the front of Spike's jeans and had his hand slipped down inside, touching Spike.

Giles had enough self-control -- barely -- not to give in to his first impulse, but the images slipping through his head of his hand grinding thin flesh against sharp bone as he grabbed Spike's shoulder, yanking him around so that his face was there for Giles' fist were so vivid that he glanced down involuntarily at his hand, almost expecting to see a gloss of blood across each stretched-white knuckle.

Even in the confusion of disappointed disgust that was making Giles' breath catch sickeningly in his throat, he didn't lose sight of who was at fault, and he really had no intention at all of hurting the boy. Although if he didn't get his fucking hand away from Spike's cock --

The boy saw him first, his eyes widening in shock, which, in a situation like this, was enough by itself to tell Giles just how young he really was. It didn't give him any satisfaction, though. A sneer, a grin, even a threatening scowl would've been so much easier to deal with than a blush; couldn't Spike have gone for someone a little less fresh-faced, for God's sake? Giles supposed, with a flash of grim humor, that to the boy he must look very much like an enraged parent rather than a betrayed boyfriend. It didn't make him feel any calmer.

Spike didn't turn, but Giles saw his shoulders stiffen.

"Sorry," Giles said coldly. "Don't let me interrupt."

"Ought to introduce you, at least," Spike said, still without turning his head. He did, however, slide his hand down to the boy's wrist, preventing the boy from pulling his hand away. "Giles, this is Colin. He's a nice lad. Showing me a good time, aren't you, Colin."

Colin didn't look any less alarmed as Giles said, "A bit young, don't you think?"

"I'm sixteen," Colin said with spirit, lifting his chin, and Spike chuckled.

"There, you see?" Spike turned his head and looked at Giles. "It's all nice and legal. You don't have to worry." There was a stubborn sort of defiance in Spike's gaze.

"Trust me, I'm not," Giles said, meeting Spike's eyes and not making any attempt to hide his contempt, although he did his best to keep the hurt from showing. The piped-in music gave them an illusion of privacy, and although there was someone behind Giles, over at the far wall, a quick glance showed that he was concentrating hard on taking a piss as fast as possible, not wanting to get involved. And as for the couples in the cubicles, Giles really didn't expect them to stop what they were doing for anything short of all-out mayhem.

And he wasn't planning on indulging his anger quite that far.

"Are you going to let go of his wrist before I break yours?" Giles asked, keeping his voice carefully polite. As threats went, it had the virtue of being well within his capabilities, and Spike knew it, although Giles, even this irate, hoped that Spike also knew it wasn't one he'd really carry out.

Colin didn't have the benefit of Spike's knowledge, of course. He made a soft, panicked sound and tugged hard enough to free himself from a grip that had tightened at Giles' words rather than relaxed.

"You wouldn't," Spike said confidently. As Colin looked nervously between the two of them, Spike sighed and gestured at the boy. "Go on, then. Get out of here."

Colin went, slipping past Giles and heading for the door.

"Don't know what your problem is," Spike said. He slid a hand down inside his jeans, adjusting himself, and then casually did up the fastenings. "Not like you want anything to do with me, but for some reason you've got a problem with me being with someone who does?" He sounded, Giles thought, fairly convincing, but he wasn't counting on how well Giles knew him.

"If you wanted to play that game, perhaps you should have warned me," Giles said, moving forward and forcing Spike to step back until he was leaning against the same cubicle wall Colin had been pressed up against. Indifferent to the open door, Giles took another step forward, forcing his leg between Spike's and taking hold of Spike's T-shirt, dragging him up so that their faces were very close. "But I still wouldn't have agreed," Giles said through his teeth, seeing Spike wince as Giles' knuckles dug mercilessly into his chest. "And somehow I don't think Xander would've gone along with it either, do you?"

He could feel Spike's breath hot against his face, but Spike didn't look away. Giles saw something -- concern, perhaps, or maybe regret -- in Spike's eyes, but only for a moment. Then Spike said, through gritted teeth, "Let go of me."

Giles didn't answer.

Struggling against his grip, Spike growled, but it didn't have quite the same effect as it had when he'd been a vampire. Thanks to regular trips to the gym, Giles was in better shape than he'd been in years, and Spike, fit though he was, weighed easily two stone less. He was no match and he knew it.

After a moment, the fight went out of Spike and he looked down, clearly ashamed of himself and his behavior. "Not gonna tell him, are you?"

"No," Giles said without easing up at all on his hold on Spike, feeling a little wary of his sudden surrender. "I rather thought I'd leave delivering that bit of news up to you."

He wasn't happy about the idea -- it would hurt Xander to find out what Spike had done, and Giles did not like anything or anyone that did that -- but it wasn't as if he had a choice. He wasn't going to lie, after all, and when Xander -- who'd seemed a little taken aback at the idea of Giles and Spike going to this particular club now that Giles thought about it -- asked how it'd gone, there was no way that Giles was going to let Spike censor this down to, 'Giles was a boring git and I missed you, love.'

Spike looked, gratifyingly, rather desperate now. "It didn't mean anything," he said. "Really, when it comes right down to it, nothing happened, did it? No point in upsetting him over nothing."

"Where to begin on how wrong you are?" Giles said with sarcasm lying thickly on each word. "I'm spoiled for choice. Perhaps we can overlook the fact that I'm upset -- fucking furious if you must know -- and therefore the chances are good that Xander will be, too, because of that, if nothing else. But, fine, let's move on to the part where something did happen and if I'd come along five -- no, let's make it three -- minutes later, young Colin would've had a handful of more than your bloody dick, you pathetic, spiteful --"

Finally losing his tenuous hold on his temper, Giles pushed Spike away from him, hard enough that the back of Spike's head hit the wall with a crack.

"I'm going home," Giles told him in a savage undertone as the outer door opened bringing with it an increase in the noise and three men; all drunk enough to think slipping in a pool of what was hopefully lager was hilariously funny. "If you come back tonight, it'd better be alone and sober, do you hear me?"

Spike's hands clutching onto the front of Giles' shirt told Giles what he needed to know, or at least some of it. "No," Spike said, refusing to let go of Giles. "Look, I'm drunk. Maybe I got a bit carried away. But don't tell Xander -- it'll just upset him, and nothing happened, right? Nothing happened. C'mon."

Giles didn't think Spike was nearly as drunk as he was claiming to be, but he did believe that he was every bit as upset as he appeared. "I might," he said, "agree not to tell him. But only if you swore to me that it would never happen again. Not this or anything like it."

"I swear," Spike said eagerly. His blue eyes were dark in the low lighting of the room, his lips perfectly shaped, and Giles ached knowing that all he and Xander had done for Spike still hadn't been enough to convince him how much he meant to them. "Never again, I swear it. You have my word."

"Which is worth so very much," Giles said, still caught up in the bitterness of seeing Spike act like that, using a young boy to pay back a perceived slight, uncaring about the consequences for any of them. "God, Spike, I can't believe you did this. What the hell is wrong with you?" He knocked Spike's hands away. "No, don't bother telling me. I don't trust you, or your promises. They're worthless."

"Giles, please." Spike followed Giles out of the stall, his hands grabbing onto Giles again. Giles didn't think he'd ever heard Spike sound so desperate, and he was quite sure that those were tears he saw in Spike's eyes. Despite Giles' anger, he couldn't help but feel a touch of sympathy. "Please. I'll do anything you want. Prove to you that you can trust me. Anything."

Spike seemed to take Giles' hesitation as a sign that he'd got his foot in the proverbial door, and he dropped to his knees, mindless of the filth that covered the floor.

"Tell me what you want me to do," Spike said. "Want me to suck you off right here where anyone can see?"

Something long-hidden and denied stirred and woke inside Giles at Spike's words, at the simplicity of his gesture. Kneeling, staring up at Giles with eager, hopeful eyes, Spike was enough to tempt anyone, and Giles, knowing that Spike would do exactly what he'd offered, no matter how many people walked through the door to replace the three who'd left while they argued, couldn't help his body's response.

But what he'd have accepted at twenty with a slow slide down of a zipper as his only answer wasn't going to happen now.

"That what you had planned for Colin, was it?" Giles said. "Or would he have been the one getting his knees dirty?" Spike blinked, looking lost and disappointed, and Giles let thwarted lust flare into impatience. "Oh, get up, Spike. You're not getting away with it that easily, and I refuse to discuss this here."

Spike obeyed immediately, getting to his feet and following Giles to the door. The throbbing beat of the music was loud to the point of being distracting, but Giles didn't allow his attention to stray, and he was mildly pleased to note that Spike kept close, head down, shadowing him as if he'd been ordered to.

Which, when Giles thought about it, he very nearly had.

It was still early enough that there were plenty of taxis around, although the knowing glance of the driver who'd watched them emerge from the club and cross to the waiting line of cars set Giles' teeth on edge.

He waited until Spike had slid onto the back seat before going around to the other side of the car, making sure that he kept as much space as possible between them. After giving their address to the driver, Giles turned his head to stare unseeingly out of the window, ignoring Spike completely, partly because he knew Spike would hate that and partly because he wasn't going to give the driver the dubious entertainment of listening to them argue.

Although, judging by the way Spike was sitting, back straight and hands folded, his neck bent in a penitent curve, arguing might not have been on the menu. With a distant, faint flicker of amusement, Giles realized that Spike had moved from rebel to supplicant in a moment. He would've liked to think that it was because of something he'd done or said, but he knew better.

Xander. All down to not hurting Xander.

Well, it was good to know that he wasn't alone in his protective, possessive passion for Xander, and oddly endearing -- and aggravating, too -- to see Spike, who resisted and fought Giles tooth and nail at times, give way to Xander so often with an instant compliance rooted in what Giles had believed to be love.

Now he wasn't so sure. In the months since they'd been together, he'd had time to study Spike, and without discussing it with either of them, he'd come to some conclusions about how he and Xander fit into Spike's world-view, which seemed unaffected by his return to humanity.

Spike had to have someone to worship. Xander was perceptive enough to know that Spike needed reassurance, and he gave it to him with an ever-growing confidence and eloquence that Giles envied and knew he couldn't emulate. Xander, not Giles, was cast in the role of adored.

Giles, it seemed, was expected to provide the limits. Be the strong one. Keep Spike in check so that Xander never had to worry that the tiger curled tamely at his feet would lash out as he'd done tonight.

Fine, Giles thought, tapping his fingers impatiently against his knee as the taxi slowed at a red light, still hearing the promise implicit in Spike's voice as he knelt. I can do that. Oh, yes, I most certainly can.

He turned his head as the taxi drew up outside their house, studying the man beside him. Spike glanced up, his expression hidden until the headlights of a passing car illuminated the interior of the taxi.

Spike looked suitably chastened and meek, but there was a challenge in his eyes, and as Giles' gaze dropped he saw that Spike's hands were placed carefully in his lap, framing the outline of his cock.

Not subtle, but very Spike. Giles looked at him thoughtfully, letting the last of his anger go. This wasn't something he needed to be angry to do well.

He paid the driver, who was glancing between them curiously, sensing something he wasn't perceptive enough to analyse, and then got out of the car.

Spike was at his heels as they went into the dark house, and when the door closed, shutting the world away, he was on his knees again before Giles had done more than remove his jacket.

"'m sorry," Spike whispered, not touching Giles with anything but his cheek, which he rubbed against Giles' thigh. "I'll do anything you want. Just tell me."

Stepping far enough away to break the contact, Giles hung up his jacket and looked down at Spike, who met his gaze steadily with the hint of a question in his eyes.

"I want to know I can trust you, Spike," he said inflexibly, refusing to do as he'd done so many times and comfort Spike, this time with an assurance of silent discretion. It would've been seen as weakness, not kindness, and Giles had had quite enough of Spike misinterpreting him for one night. "I want to know Xander can trust you. After tonight, I don't think we can. You're going to have to be very convincing over the course of the weekend if you want me to change my mind about that, and I warn you I'm not in the best of moods so don't even think about trying my patience by saying one more time that it was nothing."

Spike opened his mouth and Giles closed it with a look. "I hadn't finished speaking," he said coldly. "I'm going to sit down and have a drink that doesn't come embellished with ice, a slice and a fucking paper parasol and cost as much as I'd pay for a half-decent bottle of wine."

He turned away.

"And you're going to stay there, just like that, until I've drunk it," he added, hearing the scrape of Spike's boot against the carpet as if he was starting to stand up.

There was a sound as if Spike had begun to speak and then thought better of it. Giles waited until he'd nearly reached the kitchen before he glanced back down the hallway to see Spike where he'd left him, head down.

Going into the kitchen, Giles poured himself a glass of whisky and sat at the table, trying to think. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that this was going to be easy; he knew Spike better than that. He was actually quite surprised that Spike had let it go this far, and he had to admit to some curiosity about how much further he could take it.

There wasn't a sound from the hallway.

The length of time it took to sip his way slowly through a generous measure of single malt wasn't long enough for Giles to decide exactly what he was going to do, and even with Spike out of sight he was still achingly conscious of him and what he was doing.

Obeying him.

Giles shuddered as he swallowed the last of the whiskey. God, he was going to have to be so careful! Because this wasn't simple, not at all. If it had been, they'd be yelling at each other now, not lost in this oddly expectant silence, or already in bed, with Spike getting to tell Giles just exactly how sorry he was for provoking him in a dozen different ways over the evening. Giles thought about Colin's mouth and felt again the incredulity that Spike had dared -- and he'd looked so much like Xander, which made it worse -- and Spike must have known, must have --

Giles' chaotically swirling thoughts came to rest in a neat pattern.

Spike. Planning an evening out that he must have known Giles would hate, and then behaving in that outrageous way. Spike, who'd been on edge and unhappy for several weeks now, ever since he'd known Xander would be leaving him behind. Spike, whose contentment was starting to unravel at the edges a little, as though there was something he needed and wasn't getting --

Spike, who was as adept at making the most of opportunities as anyone Giles knew.

He wasn't sure how much of this Spike had planned consciously -- his distress at the idea of Xander being hurt had been genuine, Giles was sure of that -- but he could well believe that Spike had thought that the ends justified the means and had been surprised to discover that for Giles it wasn't quite that cut and dried.

"If you can't show me a good time, guess I'll just have to find someone who can."

Even knowing now that Spike hadn't meant that as anything more than a broad hint didn't lessen the sting, but it wasn't as if Giles hadn't known what Spike wanted --

*****

"You're incorrigible," Giles gasped, as Spike attempted to squirm away. His arse was still stinging, and he wondered if he had a reddened mark in the shape of Spike's hand from the unexpected swat.

He caught Spike by the ankle and dragged the smaller man toward him, flipping him over and straddling him, kissing him fiercely. Spike continued to put up a fight, although he wasn't using all his strength, and his eager hands on Giles' arm and back were proof of how much he was enjoying this. "Gonna punish me?" Spike asked, panting, writhing beneath Giles.

"Should I?" Giles slid his hand up the back of Spike's thigh and pinched his arse, and Spike bucked and yelped, the movement pressing his erection up against the underside of Giles'. They both groaned, and Spike threw Giles to one side while he was distracted. Giles felt his head connect with Xander's knee, not hard enough to hurt.

"Hey," Xander said in mild protest. He was sitting at the head of the bed, still recovering from the orgasm that had resulted, Giles thought with pleasure, in him nearly losing consciousness. "Easy there."

"Tell him," Giles said good-naturedly, wrestling Spike into submission on his belly and swatting Spike's arse. "He's the one who started it."

Spike squirmed onto his side and curled his hand around Giles' cock, squeezing. "You gonna finish it, Giles? Gonna fuck me into submission?" He moved closer.

"Oh, you'd like that, would you?" Giles asked, deciding that as ideas went it was far from the worst Spike had ever had. He ran his hand over Spike's arse, wanting very much to leave just one more -- well, why not? The crack of his hand against the curved flesh rang out sharply and was followed by a heartfelt groan of pleasure from Spike, who shifted position so that he was half-across Giles' lap. "It's going to be difficult if you don't stay still," Giles remarked, trying to keep his voice level.

"Can think of a few ways to solve that problem," Spike said, his breathing speeding up.

Giles could feel the responsive quiver that ran through Spike as Giles grinned and patted his arse, gently this time, staring down at the mark his hand had left. "So can I, Spike, but even shackled hand and foot you still have a tendency to wriggle as I recall."

"Yeah, but if you chained me up, you could do all sorts of things." Spike rocked his hips restlessly, the slick tip of his cock rubbing against Giles' thigh.

"I could probably think of a few," Giles agreed.

"Like what?" Spike sounded as if he were trying to hide how eager he was, which meant he was doing rather a poor job of it. He lowered his voice to a seductive rasp, the prickle of it making Giles' skin itch. "Gonna carve your name on me? Make me yours?"

Giles didn't have time to decide whether or not to consider it as a possibility, because Xander's reaction was swift. Xander moved down the bed, pulling Spike into his arms. It was a reaction that might have caused Giles to feel as if Xander didn't trust him, but he knew that wasn't the case -- he suspected it was more that Xander was trying to protect Spike from himself. "He could draw it on with a marker," Xander suggested, his fingers sliding down to pinch at Spike's nipple, startling a surprised gasp from Spike. "Or -- hey -- you could get a tattoo. At a nice, clean tattoo parlor." Xander glanced up, his eyes meeting Giles'.

"I don't think we need to worry," Giles said gently, making it a warning and seeing something very much like frustrated disappointment cross Spike's face, so fleetingly it was easy to pretend he hadn't noticed it. "Spike was joking, I'm sure." He paused and then added, "And I'd never do anything to you that would scar, Spike." He reached out and picked up Spike's hand, turning it so that they could see the faint white line across Spike's finger. "Not now you're human and the marks don't fade."

"Wouldn't mind, if they were ones you put on me," Spike muttered, but then immediately backtracked, lifting his face toward Xander's concerned one. "Don't worry, love. Just seeing if I could get a rise out of you." He nuzzled Xander's thigh, and Giles saw a quick flick of Spike's pink tongue.

"You already got a rise out of me," Xander pointed out, his eyelids fluttering as Spike's mouth closed around the head of his cock. "God. Yeah, okay, maybe you could get another one."

Giles reached out a hand and lay it on Spike's hip, feeling the tension there.

*****

"Giles?" Spike called from the front hall, sounding tentative.

Jolted out of his thoughts, Giles turned his head, his decision made, and then hesitated. Xander wouldn't like this. He wouldn't like it at all.

But it was Colin's face he saw as he walked along the hallway to where Spike was kneeling. Colin, who didn't matter to Spike -- didn't matter, on one level at least, to Giles, whose mild sympathy for the boy was tempered by the near-certainty that Colin was by now back in that cubicle with someone else and having as good a time as possible, given the circumstances -- but who would matter to Xander.

Especially if he was the first of many.

Giles wasn't sure how far Spike would go to get what he wanted, but he wasn't going to risk it being far enough to leave Xander broken-hearted. If Spike needed to know he was loved, he could get that from both of them. If he needed to be limited, disciplined, hurt, Xander wouldn't, couldn't do it.

He supposed it was lucky for all of them that he could.

He reached Spike and said curtly, "We need to talk. Get up." Without waiting to see if Spike would obey him, he turned on his heel and went into the living room, sitting down on the couch.

Spike followed him, standing in front of Giles and looking a little unsure of himself.

"Sit down," Giles said, nodding at the couch, "and tell me how you're never going to do that to us again."

Spike sat down, giving Giles a quick, almost disappointed look, as if this was what he wanted but it was too easily won. "I won't. I promise. Just don't tell Xander, right?"

"That's what you want?"

"Fuck, yes!" Spike said, sounding sincere. "Giles, you know what he's like; he'd think I didn't love him -- he wouldn't understand --"

"No. He wouldn't," Giles agreed. "When it comes to you, he wouldn't understand at all." He leaned back, staring at his hand, resting on the back of the couch. "Is that all you want, Spike?"

"What do you mean?" Spike looked wary.

"You know what I mean," Giles said. "There's something you need that you're not getting, isn't there." He cleared his throat, deciding to lay it all on the line. "Something you were trying to goad me into."

Spike's gaze went down to the floor and stayed there. He didn't respond.

"I'm not going to give you anything you don't ask for," Giles said quietly, hoping Spike would see how difficult this was for him. He'd taken a lot of risks since Spike joined them, but this went beyond any of them. If he lost Xander trying to keep Spike from leaving... just the thought of that made his voice harsh. "You have to ask."

Spike looked up, his face pale, his eyes intent. "How about if I beg instead?"

And suddenly it was simple again.

Giles leaned back, feeling his hand clench into a fist and forcing it to relax. He rested it against the back of the couch, the leather warming under his skin. "I'd like that, I think," he said, telling Spike all he needed to know in a sentence. Because, selfish though Spike was at times, Giles didn't think he'd be happy if he thought he was asking too much of Giles.

Too much... Giles knew what his limits were, but he wasn't sure Spike had had long enough to re-draw his.

He lifted his eyebrows and gave Spike a slight, cool smile. "I'm waiting."

Spike hesitated, and then nodded. "Need you to show me," he said hoarsely. His hands were twisting in his lap. "Can't do it on my own. Proved that, haven't I? Need you to do it for me." He looked up at Giles. "Keep me in line. Punish me when I step over it."

It was more than Giles had expected, but that also meant that it was more than enough.

"Not saying I'll make it easy," Spike added, dropping his gaze again. "But I want you to trust me again. Want to prove to you that you can. That Xander can."

"I think you can do it on your own," Giles said, pushing at Spike just a little with his words, already starting to work on him. "You just don't want to. It's easier when someone else is in charge. Safer."

"It's better this way," Spike insisted. "Better for us all."

"So we do this," Giles went on inexorably. "You're mine, unconditionally, until Xander walks through that door and I make you bloody well see just what happens when you misbehave -- and then what? You know he won't let this carry on, and I won't let him be forced into agreeing to it, and I won't hide it from him --" A thought occurred to him. "You're going to be marked up," he said. "I don't think I can give you what you want without that."

Spike looked bleak, desperate. "You're not gonna do it, then," he said, shifting forward as if he were going to stand and then slumping back again, covering his face with one hand. "Please, Giles," Spike whispered. "I'll do anything you say. Figure out a way to do it without marking me, if you have to, but do it."

Giles stretched out his hand instinctively to touch Spike, stroke his hair, comfort him -- and then let it drop back. Not what Spike needed. With an effort, because even now he found it difficult to talk about his feelings for them both, beyond an 'I love you' that had always seemed to be enough, he said, "I want to, Spike and that's what's making this difficult. Because I'm worried I'm going to do it for the wrong reasons." Spike looked up at that, and Giles met his gaze. "It wouldn't be enough. Just once wouldn't be enough. I know you. You'll settle down for a little, and then -- " Giles reached out and cupped Spike's face, his fingers painfully tight. "This isn't something we can hide from Xander, Spike, and if I could, I wouldn't. Oh, I'll keep quiet about that boy; you're right when you say it'd do no good telling him about that -- although it'd make him see just how necessary this is --"

"No!" Spike's head jerked away, his eyes widening in panic. "Please, Giles. Don't tell him."

Giles slipped his hand around the back of Spike's neck, holding him in place. "I said I won't. But this -- you can't keep this from him, and the way I see it, if it's not something you can ask me for when you need it, then all the promises in the world aren't going to keep you from doing something Xander won't be able to forget." He let his hand slip away. "I want to do this. I won't lie. You know I do. But I don't -- I don't need to, not really. This is something I'd be doing for you. Because I love you and I don't want to lose you. And because I love him and I don't want to see him hurt. I need you to believe that, Spike. That I love you. Sometimes, I don't think you do."

Spike was trembling visibly, his face pale and his lips flushed a dark pink. Giles wanted, very badly, to kiss him, but it wasn't the right time for that, not now. "Want to believe you," Spike said. "Love both of you so fucking much that it hurts. And I'm trying so hard -- know it might not look that way from where you're standing, but I am -- and I still end up hurting you." He drew a shaky breath. "Help me, Giles. I know I don't have any right to ask for it, but... please. Please."

"You've got every right to ask for it," Giles said fiercely, wishing Spike would realize just how much he and Xander were willing to give him. "Every right. Why can't you see that? Why couldn't you have just told me instead of -- no, I know why you couldn't. I'm sorry." He rubbed his hand across his face. "Give me a moment," he said, standing up and walking over to the mantelpiece, littered with the debris of their lives rather than neatly spaced ornaments. A note from Xander lay upper-most on a small pile of credit card receipts, and he stared at the familiar scrawl, wanting Xander to be with them so much it hurt.

"Go up to the spare room," Giles said, not taking his eyes off the note. "Strip and put your clothes in the hamper; you won't be wearing them again this weekend." Spike made a small sound and Giles turned. "You're going to be on display for me, Spike. I want to be able to see you without waiting, touch you without having anything between your skin and my hand." He let his lips tighten in what might pass for a smile. "Or anything else I use on you."

Spike slid off the couch to his knees, looking almost pitifully grateful. "Giles --"

Giles didn't even think about what he did next. Three strides took him to Spike's side, and he twisted his fingers cruelly tight in Spike's hair, pulling him up as Spike struggled to get his feet under him. "I didn't ask for your thoughts on that, Spike. I'm not interested in them. I've had enough of your insolence tonight, in case that fact hasn't sunk in."

Spike just looked at him, so many emotions evident in his eyes that Giles couldn't have begun to sort them out. Anger, pride, regret, gratitude, and so many more. "Yes," Spike said finally, unable to nod his head because of the grip Giles had on him.

"Go." Giles released him, and Spike didn't hesitate, starting immediately for the stairs. Giles could hear the sound of his boots as he went up, the creak of the bottom hinge on the spare room door that Giles kept meaning to oil as Spike went in. Then everything was quiet.

He gave himself a few moments, trying to find the right headspace, needing the proper frame of mind for what was going to come next. Then he went purposefully upstairs and into the spare bedroom.