Pervasion Part Two by Jane Davitt & Wesleysgirl Giles/spike/Xander

[janedavitt]

Here's part two, with much smut, just to warn you. Thanks for all the kind feedback on the first part!

Previous parts are here.


Pervasion

by Jane Davitt & Wesleysgirl

Part Two

Spike was naked and on his knees in the center of the room, head bowed, hands resting on his thighs. He didn't look up or say anything as Giles came in, but the feeling of tension and anticipation in the air was nearly palpable.

Giles looked around the room. He wasn't sure what had prompted him to send Spike here, rather than to the bedroom they all shared. It wasn't that he felt that they were doing something wrong; more that he wanted this, for now, to be something between him and Spike, and the main bedroom was simply too full of memories of Xander to allow that.

His gaze fell on the bed, taking in the short, sturdy posts at each corner, and he couldn't help smiling. There were several practical reasons, too, of course...

Giles picked up a straight-backed chair and set it down a few feet away from Spike, sitting down and making himself comfortable, enjoying the sight in front of him without guilt. Spike had only turned on the bedside lamp, and the soft, clear light spilled across his pale skin, illuminating it and making Giles long to touch him. Spike's skin felt different to Xander's; still new, still quick to burn in the sun. It would take and hold each stroke, each slap so well, Giles reflected.

Spike's cock was already hard, jutting forward impudently, expectantly, from the dark hair surrounding it. Well, that wouldn't do.


Giles slid his belt free of the loops holding it in place, never taking his eyes off Spike, waiting for the moment when Spike's eyes flicked up, nervous and curious.

"You're going to feel this on you," Giles told him. "But not yet." He coiled the belt and set it down on the floor beside him, and then folded his arms. "You're hard, Spike. I don't think that's an appropriate condition to be in when you're being chastised, do you?"

Spike swallowed and shook his head. "Not doing it on purpose," he said, his voice low and, what surprised Giles more, respectful.

"I'm sure you're not," Giles said dryly, "but that's beside the point. This isn't about you getting off, Spike. You don't deserve that after what you've done, as I'm sure you'll agree. I want you across my knee, Spike. Arse-up and ready for my hand, but not with you in this state." He let his voice harden and saw Spike swallow again, his tongue flashing across his lips. "Do you think I don't know how much easier it is to bear the pain when you're aroused? And do you really think I'm feeling all that merciful right now?"

Giles leaned back, keeping his movements deliberate and controlled. "I want to see you come," he said softly. "While I watch. Doing it for me, because I've told you to. This isn't for you, Spike. You're not getting rewarded, so don't even think it. Now spread your knees wider -- yes, just like that -- and get on with it."

Spike drew a shivering breath in and brought his left hand down to his shaft, giving it a squeeze before he began to stroke it. He'd already been hard, the head of his cock partially exposed where the foreskin had drawn back in arousal, but the first downward stroke of his fist drew the foreskin down the rest of the way, giving Giles a perfect view of the dark pink tip. He knew what that cock felt like in his hand -- how hot it was, as if Spike's body were overcompensating for a hundred plus years of having no heat of its own. He knew, intimately, what it tasted like.

His own trousers suddenly a bit uncomfortable, Giles shifted on his chair and met Spike's eyes when he glanced up. Almost instantly, Spike dropped his eyes again as if unsure what the rules were. His hand, however, continued to move, the muscles in his thighs tense as a drop of glistening fluid formed at the tip of his cock.

"No, you can look at me," Giles said, making it less of a suggestion than the words indicated. "I want to see your face."

Spike's face flushed with heat but he tilted his head back a little, staring at Giles from under his eyelashes, eyes half-closed, lips parted as he drew in swift, harsh breaths. Giles bit down on the inside of his mouth to stop himself from voicing the small sound of pleasure that rose to his lips. God, if wasn't careful he'd be coming before Spike did... What looked like a faint gleam of amusement passed over Spike's face, as if he was well aware of the effect he was having on Giles and liked it.

"Yes, you're pretty," Giles said evenly. "A very pretty, naughty boy." He let his gaze drop down to the length of leather by the chair and smiled. "You'll look even prettier when you're crying."

Spike groaned and rocked his hips forward as if the mere suggestion of the belt was nearly enough to make him come. The noise of his hand on his cock was even more distracting now, pre-come slicking his fingers and the head wet with it. His eyes were locked on Giles', his breathing even more labored. He was a vision, perfect, spell-binding.

"You're taking too long, Spike," Giles said, refusing to allow himself to be seduced out of his role, knowing that Spike couldn't be allowed any vestige of control. "You're making me wait, and that doesn't please me. You've got two hands -- use them."

It wasn't hard to sound annoyed when his own cock was aching to be stroked.

"I'm going to make you do this with Xander watching one day," Giles said, as Spike's right hand came down to cup his balls, handling them more roughly than Giles would have done. Spike's eyes were glazed now, and he was moaning softly under his breath. "You'll be lying on the bed, jerking off, just like this, and I'll touch him as he watches you, touch him and kiss his body, kiss his mouth, but I won't let you look at him and neither of us will touch you. You'll keep your eyes closed and you'll hear the sounds he's making and wonder if it's because of what he's seeing or because my hands are on him, on his cock, hard as yours. And you'll come when he tells you to, won't you?"

"Yeah," Spike said, the sound more a groan than a proper word. "Fuck, Giles. God." Spike's hand faltered, stopped, then started moving again in a blur as he came, lips parted, cock throbbing in his hand and shooting fluid out onto the floor in front of him as he gasped and panted.

Giles didn't give Spike -- or himself -- the chance to calm down, although he'd taken advantage of the instant that Spike's eyes screwed closed to let his own face show some of what he was feeling, which helped a little. "Here. Now," he demanded, fighting to keep his voice cold. "Crawl to me, Spike."

Trembling and gasping in the aftereffects of his release, Spike obeyed, crawling across the floor to Giles and pressing his temple to Giles' knee in supplication.

Unable to resist, especially when it could be seen as part of what they were doing as much as Giles' need to give Spike one last gentle touch, he tousled Spike's hair -- something Spike would normally have protested loudly -- and felt Spike push up against his hand pleadingly.

Giles slipped his hand under Spike's chin, tipping his head back so that their eyes met, staring at him in silence. "This is going to hurt," he said finally. "More than you expect, I think. But don't worry --" He patted Spike's cheek, smiling inwardly at the glare that got him. "If you beg nicely, I'll stop -- but I don't think you'll like what I do instead. Still -- I will stop." He pursed his lips. "How remiss of me. You'll need a safe word, won't you?" Spike opened his mouth, probably to reject the very idea, and Giles shook his head inflexibly. "You will. I insist on it. Now let me see... 'Angel' will do very nicely, I think."

He would have been able to see from Spike's expression how well-chosen the word was even if he hadn't already known. It was clear that it wasn't a word Spike would use unless the situation was very dire, which really, when it came right down to it, was the point.

"What happens if I ask you to stop?" Spike asked, his voice sounding not quite normal.

"If you ask me? Nothing. Ask away. Beg. Be creative. I wouldn't advise suffering in stoic silence, though; that wouldn't improve your situation at all." Giles made a small, beckoning gesture and Spike stood up and positioned himself over Giles' knees with a graceful economy of movement that showed he'd done it before.

"No," Giles went on, thankful that Spike couldn't see his face, "The only way this will end is when I think you've had enough, or you say -- well? Tell me?"

Spike tensed on Giles' lap. "No. Not unless I have to."

"I wondered how long it would take before your, 'yes, Giles, I'll do anything' fell by the wayside," Giles said pleasantly. "You really do need to be taught a lesson in obedience, don't you? Shall we try again? If this goes beyond what you can endure, you're rescued by --?"

Giles rather thought that phrasing it like that was all the punishment Spike needed for his rebellion, and from the ill-tempered squirm Spike gave, he was probably right. Closing his eyes briefly as Spike's movement had brought his hip close enough to rub against Giles' trapped, aching cock, he waited for Spike's response.

"I'll do anything but that," Spike growled.

"You don't get to pick and choose when you obey me, Spike," Giles said. "I can't imagine that that's news to you."

He counted to three in his head, shrugged and stood up, rolling Spike off his knees as he did and leaving him in a sprawled heap on the floor.

"No," Spike said quickly, wincing and getting up onto his knees again. The panic was back, eyes and voice, as if there was nothing left inside Spike but panic. Giles would have thought Spike's reaction over the top for anything short of being told he wasn't loved anymore.

On the other hand, perhaps that was exactly how Spike was feeling.

"'m sorry. Won't disobey again, I swear it. Give me another chance." Spike's head was down, his shoulders shaking.

Not dropping down beside him and pulling him close to both give and receive comfort was hard. Frustrated and on edge himself from what had happened, it took all of Giles' willpower to remain standing, to keep the control he needed to give Spike what he needed.

Giles walked past him over to the chest of drawers that housed some of his clothes, ignoring the anguished, dry sob from Spike. Without hurrying, he pulled out first one drawer, then another, rummaging through the contents until he found what he needed; a soft, thick silk scarf that he'd had for years. The green paisley of the silk was backed with a fine layer of wool, making it ideal for what he had in mind.

"Second chances come at a price, Spike," he said, going to one knee behind Spike and turning the scarf into a blindfold, being careful not to do more than brush his fingers against Spike's head as he fastened it. "In your case, it's your sight. I'm told that makes what you're about to experience a little more intense."

He stood up and went to sit on the chair. "Now get back to where you were before you decided to play games and exhaust my very limited patience."

Spike rolled his head as if testing how securely tied the blindfold was, his nostrils flared and his lips thin. It was clear that he wasn't happy about being deprived of his sight, but Giles wasn't in the mood to relent.

Spike crawled over to him again and, with less assurance, draped himself over Giles' lap, his body taut with an apprehension Giles shared.

Giles let his hand rest heavily against Spike's backside, caressing it possessively. "Tell me," he murmured. "When it hurts too much, when you want me to stop, when you realize I meant it when I told you that begging wouldn't help... what do you say?"

Spike quivered under his touch, the tension evident in his frame. It was clear that he was fighting with himself, trying to force himself to do as ordered even though it was enormously difficult for him. Finally, he whispered, "Angel."

"Yes," Giles said, making his voice warmer, although he kept his relief from showing. "Angel."

His hand was rising with the first word and it fell with the second, landing hard enough to draw a soft, startled sound from Spike. Giles paused, partly to allow Spike time to feel the sting, but more to deal with his own reaction.

He'd regained some measure of control when he'd been searching for the scarf, and he was doing his best to ignore the demands of his body, which, given the events of the past six months or so, wasn't used to being denied release. Watching Spike come, naked and kneeling at his feet, had left Giles shaken with the force of his arousal; spanking him was doing absolutely nothing to calm him down.

He'd known that this would turn him on; known it even before Spike's blatant invitation in their bed, with Xander's disturbed expression all that had kept Giles from giving Spike at least some of what he'd asked for. It wasn't as if he hadn't done this before, after all... but what had always been part of foreplay, never all that serious, never this planned, this deliberate, had never left him feeling like this, either.

Spike's vulnerability was wholly emotional; the body across his lap was strong, muscular, and well able to take what Giles planned to mete out. He wasn't concerned about hurting Spike beyond what he could handle, and if Spike ended up breaking down, well, that was what he wanted, what he'd -- they'd -- decided he needed.

No, Giles wasn't too worried about Spike. He just wondered who was going to be there to pick up the pieces for him, because he was going to want to do this again, he knew it, and Xander --

He couldn't think about Xander.

He felt Spike's breath quicken as he waited for the next slap and knew that his own matched it.

The next blow was a bit harder. Spike made a small, pained noise and shifted on Giles' lap, his hip rubbing over the erection that Giles was doing his best to ignore. Giles hit him again, harder, the sharp sound echoing a bit in the room, and Spike flinched.

Spike's backside was already pinkened, and as Giles found a rhythm for the blows both it and his own hand grew warm. His fingers and palm were tingling, his erection painful, and Spike had stopped flinching now, although he was breathing unevenly, small sobs shaking him. Each breath out was a low cry, each intake of air hitched and desperate.

Giles was losing himself in the sounds Spike was making, the anticipation of the next one driving his hand forward with an eagerness that meant Spike was being given no time to process the pain of one spank before more was added to his burden. Spike's backside was flushed now, the skin deep red at the centre of each cheek, fading to dark pink at the edges.

Hoping that his voice would be steady when he spoke, although given Spike's current state he probably wouldn't notice, Giles said softly, "Talk to me, Spike. Tell me you're sorry. I want to hear you say it."

"'m sorry!" Spike gasped at once, his voice utterly unlike usual. His accent was different, somehow, and the words broke on something more than just the fact that Giles hadn't stopped hitting him. "Never happen again, I swear it. Didn't... didn't mean to make you mad."

"Oh, that won't do," Giles said, concentrating his efforts on one side of Spike's arse instead of alternating sides and being rewarded by a grunt of pain. "You most certainly did mean it. I hope you're not going to make a practice of lying to me, Spike."

Spike cried out with the next blow, which was a particularly satisfying one. "Wanted you to... to do this. Punish me." His voice broke again. "Stop me. Keep me in line."

"That's better," said Giles, rewarding him by shifting his attentions to the unmarked skin at the top of Spike's thighs, exposed by the position he was in and flattened so that it took the imprint of his hand beautifully. "Yes, you did. And I'm giving you what you asked for, aren't I?" He returned to that one well-punished spot again, ignoring Spike's choked cry and frantic wriggle. "Well? Is there something you want to say? Or have you forgotten your manners as well as to whom you belong?"

"Thank... thank you. F-for reminding me. That - " A gasp and another desperate wriggle. "That I'm yours." Spike broke, the tension leaving him all at once as he began to sob in earnest.

"Yes," Giles said without pausing, each word accompanied by a slap. "You are. Mine. Xander's. Ours. I'm not going to let you forget that, ever."

He raised his hand and let himself really look at what he'd done and shuddered, closing his fingers protectively around the swollen skin of his palm. With his other hand he fumbled at the knot of the blindfold and let the scarf, damp with tears, fall to the floor. Blindly, still staring down at the blotched skin of Spike's arse, already starting to bruise, he stroked Spike's hair, feeling the thick strands cling to his fingers, and then slid his hand around to cup Spike's tear-wet face, feeling nothing now but an exhaustion that left no room for any other emotion.

It shouldn't have surprised him to feel Spike nuzzle against his hand, the smaller man sliding off Giles' lap -- without permission, but in that moment Giles wasn't sure he could bring himself to care -- and burying his face there, arms going around Giles' waist. Spike was shaking, pressing close, and a moment later Giles realized that Spike was breathing hotly through the fabric of his trousers just over his aching erection. Spike clung, ducked his chin, and mouthed at Giles' cock eagerly.

"God," Giles whispered, suddenly keenly aware of just how long he'd been hard and wanting, with every accidental, glancing brush from Spike's body increasing his arousal without doing anything to satisfy it. Awkwardly, using his right hand, rather than his left, which was throbbing as insistently as his cock, he undid his jeans, pushing them and his shorts down far enough to free his cock. Spike whimpered and Giles glanced down and saw that Spike was hard again, which wasn't altogether unexpected, he supposed.

Spike was also already moving forward, his tongue sliding wetly across Giles' balls and up.

"Wait," Giles said, his voice harsh, realizing that he couldn't let Spike dictate what they did, even when it was exactly what Giles wanted him to do. "Kneel back."

Obeying made Spike whimper again as the sensitive, inflamed skin of his arse touched his heels. He kept his head down, his hands resting on his thighs, his erection easily visible as he waited for Giles' next order.

Giles bent to the side and picked up his belt, drawing the supple strip of leather through his fingers. "You're very impatient, Spike, but I won't be rushed. Please remember that." Leaning forward, he put the belt around Spike's neck so that it hung down loosely, the ends brushing his chest. "I said I was going to use that on your arse, but I think that can wait." Giles shifted forward in his chair a little. "I think I've waited long enough for that blow job you promised me, though." He gripped the ends of the belt and then slid his hands up until they were level with Spike's shoulders. "Look at me."

Spike's head tilted back, and Giles smiled at him before jerking down on the belt, drawing Spike's head with it.

He let his hands, clenched around the leather, rest on his thighs, and swallowed a moan as Spike's mouth closed around his cock.

The inside of Spike's mouth was hot, his lips and tongue eager as he licked and sucked at Giles' cock with an intensity that caused Giles to tighten his grip on the belt. Spike kept his eyes down, all his focus on every millimeter of bare skin he could reach, his wet tongue teasing Giles to a state of panting arousal in moments. Sliding his lips down the shaft, Spike groaned, breath hitching in his chest as he then swirled his tongue around each of Giles' balls in turn.

Reluctantly, because Spike was good at this, Giles wound the ends of the belt around his knuckles and put his hands on Spike's shoulders, pushing him away. Spike glanced up at him, looking slightly puzzled.

"You're enjoying that a little too much," Giles told him. "That's not what we're doing here. If you think we're finished dealing with your behavior, you're wrong." He brought his left hand up to caress Spike's mouth, pushing his fingers between Spike's lips and rubbing the worn, rough leather of the belt against them. "Open your mouth for me, Spike," he said in a whisper. "I'll try and remember you need to breathe now."

For a fraction of a second, Spike looked startled, but almost immediately afterward understanding dawned in his eyes. He parted his lips willingly, looking up at Giles with what seemed very much like devotion as Giles shifted forward to the edge of the chair and slipped the head of his cock into Spike's mouth. The leather dug creases in Giles' fingers as he used it to pull Spike forward, rocking his hips as he did so, fucking Spike's mouth.

He'd forgotten how it felt to do this to someone; how different it was when he was the one controlling the slide of his cock along teeth and tongue rather than enjoying what was being done to him. And he did enjoy it, always ... but this was good, too, and right now it was just what he wanted.

A little hard to push as deep and as fast as he wanted to while he was sitting down, though... Letting the belt slip out of his hands, he stood up, stroking his hand slowly over his cock, slick and hard, and staring down at Spike, whose eyes were half-closed and who looked so very vulnerable with his face flushed and tear-stained like that. "Hold onto the belt, Spike," he ordered calmly. "Don't let go."

Spike nodded without speaking, grasping the ends of the belt, his mouth closing as he swallowed convulsively.

Giles slipped his hand around the back of Spike's neck and then rubbed the head of his cock slowly across Spike's lips, smiling as they parted for him at once.

"Good boy," he said pushing inside Spike's mouth again. "Now stay like that..."

With both hands on Spike's head, he began to fuck him again, too close to coming to be careful, feeling Spike gag and choke as Giles' cock went too far into his mouth -- Xander was rather better at this than Spike, who still hadn't quite adjusted to having a gag reflex again -- and ignoring that in a way he'd never have done normally.

Giles could feel Spike's skull under his fingers. Spike was doing his best to cooperate; that was clear from how he struggled to remain where he was, from the desperate intakes of breath through his nostrils as Giles thrust deeper. The back of Spike's throat was soft, and on the next inward shove, Spike swallowed in what Giles was certain was reflex rather than a deliberate action.

It didn't matter. Giles started to come.

He retained just enough presence of mind to pull back a little, so that when his hips drove forward in a mindless impulse triggered by a climax intense enough to have his vision graying at the edges he wasn't -- quite -- choking Spike.

Still, by the time Giles had ridden out his orgasm and pulled back, Spike was coughing, fresh tears caught in his eyelashes and his face pale. His erection, Giles noted, had subsided, but he hadn't let go of the belt Giles had ordered him to keep hold of. Spike coughed again, swallowed and drew a careful breath, and coughed a few more times, glancing up at Giles with what seemed a surprising lack of anger or hurt.

Giles reached down and tugged the belt free of Spike's grip, dropping it to the floor. Hitching up his jeans and pulling the zip up far enough to keep them in place, he walked over to a box of tissues on the table by the bed and took out a handful before returning to where Spike was still kneeling, his breathing under control again.

He knelt down beside him and dried Spike's face slowly, finishing off with a prosaic but much-needed swipe at Spike's nose. Then Giles settled back on his heels and studied him for a long moment. Spike looked remarkably relaxed considering what they'd gone through, but Giles didn't fool himself that this was over.

"Get ready for bed," he said finally, when Spike didn't speak. "I can't -- no more tonight. I can't."

A look of concern passed over Spike's face, but he still didn't say anything. Shakily, he got to his feet as Giles did the same, wincing as his no doubt sore arse protested the movement. Without meeting Giles' eyes, Spike left the room, and then Giles heard the sound of water running in the bathroom as Spike followed orders and prepared himself for bed.

Moving slowly, Giles replaced the chair and used another handful of tissues to clean Spike's come off the carpet, not letting himself think about what they'd done, or what he still had to do, as he switched off the light and walked onto the landing. Spike was waiting there, looking uncertain, and Giles paused, realizing that Spike didn't know where he was supposed to sleep.

"I said we're done for now," he said. "You know where you belong. After that you should, for God's sake."

He brushed past Spike and went into the bathroom, dealing with the familiar routine of brushing his teeth without once looking up at the mirror. He didn't want to see himself right now.

Wincing, he held his hand under the cold water tap, but it didn't help. His hand hurt. All of him hurt, dammit, and he didn't think he'd felt this tired in years.

When he went into their bedroom, it was in darkness and Spike was lying on his back in the bed. Giles stripped out of his clothes and got in beside him.

"Come here?" he said finally, when Spike didn't move. "Please?"

Begging wasn't all that hard to do when you wanted something very much.

With gratifying speed, as if he'd been lying there hoping, Spike turned and curled himself around Giles, clinging to him. Giles ran his good hand down along Spike's back, stopping the movement as soon as Spike began to tense. He realized that Spike had been lying on his sore arse as he waited for Giles to come to bed, and made mental note of the fact for future reference. Just then, though, Giles needed this. Needed the contact, needed to feel Spike pressed close to him, warm body giving the occasional wriggle against Giles' as if Spike couldn't quite stay still, as if Spike wanted to get closer and closer.

He could feel Spike's breath against his throat. "Can I talk?" Spike asked, in no more than a whisper.

Giles bit back an automatic assurance that of course he could. He really did feel that he needed time to work through his reactions to what they'd just done, but it wasn't fair to Spike to keep changing the rules on him. He'd told him this would last until Xander came home, and he'd promised Spike that he'd help him.

At the moment he felt as if he was letting him down.

"I don't recall forbidding it, so yes, you may," Giles said. "In fact, unless I specifically tell you not to talk, I want to hear your thoughts." Setting his teeth, he deliberately placed his hand on Spike's backside, despite Spike's pained intake of breath. "You're hurting because you hid things from me, Spike. I think it's time you stopped doing that."

If anything, Spike clung even more tightly for the reassurance. "Thanks," Spike said. "Needed this. Don't know why, don't know why I can't... why I still need it. Shouldn't." Slowly, the combined warmth of their bodies seemed to be relaxing Spike a bit. His hand stroked, tentatively, along Giles' side. "You all right?"

"I think so," Giles said, letting his hand drift up to rest in the hollow of Spike's back. "I'm just finding it difficult. I love you, and what I'd happily do to give you -- us -- pleasure -- well, doing it to hurt you, doing it to punish you, isn't easy." He sighed, the darkness making it easier to be honest, but not much. "Or perhaps it is, and that's what bothers me."

"Didn't mean to hurt you," Spike said, his voice a bit empty. "Didn't want to." His hand moved lower, tracing the skin over Giles' hip, then down along the front of his thigh. The touch was light, comforting, and Giles wondered if Spike was doing that deliberately or if he just needed the contact.

Spike slid down until his cheek was cushioned against Giles' abdomen, his mouth level with Giles' cock. Giles felt lips and tongue briefly caress him; not as if testing to see if he might become aroused again, which was good, because he doubted that was possible, but more as if Spike were expressing gratitude. Then Spike sighed and settled himself into a more comfortable position, still with his head resting on Giles' stomach, one arm curled around Giles' thighs just below his groin. "C'n I stay down here?" he heard Spike ask.

Giles pushed the covers back a little so that Spike could breathe and stroked Spike's hair, winding it around his fingers, as he'd done with the belt.

"You can sleep however you like," he said. "Just -- don't stop touching me." He gave the lock of hair he was holding an admonishing tug, turning the reassurance they both seemed to want into an order, although he didn't think for a moment that Spike would be fooled by the subterfuge. "When I wake, whenever I wake, I want you near me."

"Won't move," Spike promised, sighing.

Giles was exhausted enough that sleep came on quickly, his last conscious thought that he hoped he was capable of giving Spike what he needed.