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janedavitt May. 10th, 2005 09:44 am)
janedavitt May. 10th, 2005 09:44 am)Still with the smut ;-)
Previous parts are here.
Pervasion
by Jane Davitt and Wesleysgirl
Part Three
Spike woke several times during the night, once to discover that he'd rolled away and stopped touching Giles. That instinctively set his heart racing, and he quickly moved back to his previous position. He ached in ways he hadn't since before he'd turned human, which was saying a lot considering some of the stuff they'd got up to in bed, but it was a good ache.
When he stirred and woke slowly to find the morning sunshine creeping into the room, he opened his eyes and glanced up at Giles, who was still sleeping. Spike wanted to be good for Giles -- he really did -- but he couldn't help but wonder what the reaction would be to him waking Giles with a morning blow job. And Giles' cock was right there, waiting to be worshipped. Spike wanted to feel it inside him, fucking him. He'd wanted that last night, and when Giles had fucked his mouth... God, that had been good. Perfect.
Tentatively, Spike shifted a bit and pressed his lips to Giles' shaft, breathing warm air over it before taking the head into his mouth. It began to swell instantly, and he made a small hum of satisfaction and continued to suck gently, wondering for how long he could before Giles woke up.
He could tell when Giles woke because the muscles of his leg, pressed against Spike's arm, tensed and then relaxed, but Giles didn't speak or move, so Spike carried on with what he was doing, sending his tongue out to lick and curl around the fully erect cock in his mouth with a little less diffidence.
When Giles moved, it was unexpected and fast. His hand came down and Spike gasped, his mouth opening, which was probably what Giles had intended, as Giles yanked brutally at his hair.
"Up here," Giles said, shifting back so that his cock slipped out of Spike's mouth. He sounded sleepy, but firm. "Let me show you what I do to people who wake me up early on a Saturday morning..."
Spike felt a delicious twist of fear in his gut as he obeyed, his arse protesting the movement enough to make him wince.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Giles murmured without a shred of sympathy in his voice or on his face, his hand coming up to touch Spike's mouth, tracing the shape of it before dropping away. Spike missed the kiss he'd have got on any other day but didn't even dare to purse his lips just a little against those exploring fingers. "Backside a bit tender, is it?"
"A bit," Spike said. He shifted, trying to pretend that he was just getting comfortable rather than surreptitiously rubbing his cock against Giles' thigh.
"You can stop that right now," Giles said, giving Spike's arse a light, stinging smack that didn't hurt as much as remind him of all those other, not so light slaps. "This, if it's anything, is about teaching you some self-control. So far, you're not impressing me. And don't count on getting to come for a long time. You'll have to earn that."
Spike managed to stop himself, but it wasn't easy. His cock already ached, wanting Giles' touch. "Could be good for you," he murmured, trying to sound enticing. "Make you feel good."
"Oh, you're going to be very good," Giles told him with a smile that looked pretty evil for this early in the morning. "I won't have it any other way."
He sounded as if he meant that and Spike shuddered, moving restlessly beside him.
Giles sat up and stripped the covers off them, making Spike's skin prickle with a sudden chill. "On your back, Spike," he said. "Legs apart, and your hands, hmm --" Spike rolled to his back, gritting his teeth against a whimper as the sheet chafed his bruised skin and spreading his legs wide, feeling ridiculously exposed considering Giles knew every inch of him by now.
Giles' hand slid into his, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against Spike's palm. "You won't be needing your hands," he said, "so let's get them out of the way, shall we?"
Spike let Giles position his hands around the bars of the headboard, feeling the muscles in his upper arms protest at once. Giles knelt back and studied him, which was like being touched lightly all over when Giles had that look in his eyes.
When another pillow got shoved under his head, Spike knew what was coming, and he really couldn't help the way his hips lifted, just a little, off the bed.
Giles's lips twitched in a faint smile. "Eager and optimistic. You're not to come, Spike. That can be your punishment for waking me up. For trying to make me do things your way."
Giles ran his hands up along Spike's sides as he settled over him, straddling Spike's waist and then shifting up. Giles was watching Spike's face, and Spike worried for a minute that maybe he didn't look the way he was supposed to. Whatever that was.
Then Giles' thumb ran over Spike's bottom lip, and Spike opened his mouth to let Giles' cock in.
"Good," Giles murmured, and Spike felt his own cock throb at the praise as he sucked. The taste of Giles was heavy on his tongue, salty, familiar, but Giles didn't give him a chance to really do much on his own. Next thing Spike knew, Giles thrust forward, deep, and almost all Spike's focus was on finding a rhythm that let him breathe as Giles started to fuck his mouth.
He hadn't been told not to move, but Spike did his best to keep still, to be there for Giles, just as Giles wanted him. To be used; to give pleasure, not take it. Although he'd have been lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this, no matter how frustrated he was feeling.
His cock was jerking, as if it was searching for a hand to touch it, a mouth of its own to slide into. Spike flashed back to the last time that Giles had gone down on him, remembering how Giles had known just how to ease off, just when to suck harder, making it last for so much longer than Spike had expected and then, when he'd finished, lifting his head and smiling up at Spike, looking as if he'd enjoyed it as much as Spike had.
Giles wasn't smiling now.
Spike squinted up at him. Giles had one hand on the top rail of the headboard and the other was under Spike's neck, holding him still. From this angle Giles looked determined and not in the least like a man who was going to relent, no matter how good a job Spike did.
Fuck. Spike closed his eyes and tried to ignore half a dozen different signals from his body that it wasn't happy -- and as many more that it was.
But it was impossible to ignore the way his hands and arms ached from the way he was clutching onto the bars of the headboard. Spike decided to concentrate on that, on the slow, dull burn of human muscles pushed to their limits. Giles' cock in his mouth was big, and Spike's lips were starting to feel raw from the friction of having his mouth fucked twice so close together.
Spike could feel the tip of his own cock beaded up with fluid, his balls so tight that there was a heavy sensation in his belly. Giles' thrusts were a bit slower but no less forceful, and Spike groaned loudly on the next one, his nostrils flaring as he tried to take in enough air.
Giles paused, easing out of Spike's mouth nearly all the way, moving his hand from the headboard to the base of his cock and rubbing the tip of it across Spike's lips.
"Something you want to say?" he asked, managing, fuck knows how, to sound cool, even though his chest was rising and falling with rapid, uneven breaths. He began to jerk off with slow, hard strokes that meant Spike's mouth was getting nudged forcefully every second or so, with Giles managing to hit the same spot each time. Giles was far enough along that the head of his cock was wet with more than Spike's spit and the musky, clean taste of him filled Spike's mouth as he took advantage of the respite to catch his breath.
"Fuck me," Spike said pleadingly, his voice sounding ragged and desperate even to his own ears. He wanted Giles to fuck him for real, but even having his mouth used was better than nothing. Just the thought of it made him harder. Looking up into Giles' eyes, cold and glittering with arousal, Spike gasped and realized, too late, that he was on the verge of coming just from the feel of his sore arse rubbing on the sheets, each spark of pain jolting up into his balls. He didn't even have time to warn Giles -- just hung onto the bars as he came, shutting his eyes tightly because he couldn't bear to see the disappointment he knew would be on Giles' face.
Giles moved off him, with the creak of the bed the only sound in the room apart from the ones Spike was making because he couldn't help it; low groans as his traitorous body gave way to a pleasure he couldn't enjoy.
"Open your eyes," Giles said, his voice neutral enough to make Spike shiver. He forced himself to obey, blinking up at Giles, who was kneeling beside him, staring expressionlessly at the trail of come decorating Spike's stomach.
Immediately, Spike forced himself to move, pressing his mouth to Giles's knees, thighs, begging for forgiveness with his actions.
Giles let him do that for a few moments and then threaded his fingers through Spike's hair, halting him. "It's all right, Spike," he said with a distant amusement that stung worse than anger. "I'm aware of the fact that you didn't intend that to happen." His fingers began to move through Spike's hair, soothing and strong, rubbing over his head in a swirling pattern that matched the chaos of Spike's thoughts. "So shall I be kind to you? Shall I overlook what I could view as a flagrant disregard of my wishes?"
Somehow Spike didn't see that happening.
"Or shall we teach you that disobedience gets rewarded by something a little less pleasant than forgiveness? Is that a lesson you're prepared to learn, Spike?"
Spike shivered and licked his upper lip, his face tilted up toward Giles. He wanted forgiveness, didn't he? Another shiver ran through him, this one stronger than the previous one, as he tried to sort out what to ask for. He knew what he wanted, but that probably wasn't the same as what he needed, and if this whole thing was about getting what he needed while he could...
"Gonna hurt me?" Spike asked hoarsely, taking advantage of Giles' loosened grip on his hair to bend his head and lick Giles' thigh. Giles tightened his hold again, pulling Spike back so there was no choice but to look up at him. Spike gave a little moan. "Do it," he breathed. "Punish me, Giles. I need it." And the word that was the hardest to get out: "Please."
"You broke position," Giles said in that calm, mild voice that did... things... to Spike. Good things, bad things -- he wasn't sure. Just knew that when Giles stared at him with that hint of a smile that wasn't remotely amused, and spoke to him like that, he was always going to get that ache of want deep down, always going to want to do anything Giles asked.
Giles released him and Spike moved to his back again, curling his fingers around the rail, never taking his eyes off Giles.
"I was close to coming myself before you interrupted me," Giles said, still kneeling beside Spike. "How close, I wonder?"
His hand dropped to his cock and began to work it with slow, deliberate strokes. Spike tried to count them, but then Giles stiffened, speeding up, and when he climaxed, his come spattering across Spike's chest, Spike couldn't have said how many strokes it had been, so he had to take Giles' word for it when he said 'fourteen' in a voice that was just a little unsteady.
Giles placed his hand flat on Spike's chest and dragged it down, coating it with his come and Spike's. His hand felt hot against Spike's skin; as hot as it had felt the night before after he'd finished turning Spike's arse scarlet.
"Turn over," Giles whispered.
Twisting over onto his front and replacing his hands on the rail hurt, but the fourteen solid, stinging slaps on skin still raw hurt even more. Giles wasn't holding back at all, even though, through the roaring in his ears, Spike was sure he could hear Giles gasping as each slap landed, as if he were having to force himself to keep each blow as hard as the one before it.
Spike got lost in the pain of it, feeling it spark along his nerves. Every part of his body was at attention, his nipples hard, his toes curled. Even his teeth ached. He knew he had to be crying out, but he couldn't hear himself, he was so deep in. Bad. He was bad, unworthy, always had been, always would be, but Giles could make it better. Couldn't take it away permanently-- oh, no, nothing could do that -- but could drive it out of him for a little while.
When it was over, Spike heard himself weeping, broken sobs that tore at his throat, but he didn't feel anything but intense relief.
He thought he heard Giles telling him to let go, but it wasn't until he felt a light touch on his fingers that he released the rail, moaning as his cramped hands straightened and flexed, tucking them under his chin for comfort. Giles moved to lie beside him, stroking his back with firm, gentle touches that didn't stop, his body as close as it could get, warm and strong and loving.
" -- got you. I'm here. Always," Giles murmured. "I won't let you do something wrong again. Won't let you hurt Xander. I'll stop you, I promise. Until you can do it yourself. Until you know --"
And that was it, right there. Because he didn't know. He'd been human once, in a world not so different than this, but since then -- too much had changed. He'd changed. Warped and twisted by a demon inside him and trained by Angelus. Tortured by Angelus, but it hadn't seemed that way at the time. Not to a vampire. Spike wondered if the real reason Angel had kicked him out was that he couldn't bear to see himself judged by Spike and found guilty. Even with a soul Spike had still had enough of the demon in him not to really care too much about what Angelus had done to him; but now, purely human, he couldn't help a shudder of revulsion at the thought of it.
Not like he was going to get more human than thou though, was it? Because he didn't feel human. Didn't feel as if he knew how to act, what was acceptable. He could've sat down to lunch with the Queen and known what fork to use, but when it came to love, to relationships what the fuck did he know? When he'd argued with Dru, they'd kissed and made up on sheets splattered with their blood, for Christ's sake.
He needed to be told, to be shown. And when he fucked it up, he needed this. Only way he was going to learn. Only way he knew how to learn.
Angelus whispering to him, dark eyes flat and cold as he told him what he'd done wrong, the reek of blood thick and rich in the air as his fingers worked deep inside Spike's torn, ravaged body, only stopping when Spike screamed, only smiling when Drusilla fluttered and cooed and kissed each wound, feeding from them, her teeth sharp and unforgiving.
Heedless of the pain, Spike rolled to his side and huddled inside Giles' arms, hiding his face against Giles' shoulder in an agony of shamed memories.
Giles held him, seeming to understand how desperately Spike needed the comfort. But Spike was too upset to even cry now, just clutching at Giles, wanting Giles to hold him tighter. He wanted to feel Giles' fingers digging into him, wanted the comfort of pain, if that's what it was. Comfort? Punishment? Maybe they were the same thing. Maybe they always would be.
He could hear Giles murmuring soft words to him. He shook his head against Giles' chest, feeling how tight his own was, how much his lungs ached.
"It's all right," filtered through to his ears, Giles' words settling into something that made sense again. The heel of Giles' hand rubbed over his back. "Breathe, Spike."
Oh. Right. Breathing. Spike inhaled. His lungs burned; his throat was raw, his eyes stinging, and then he was crying again, with the air like acid in him and the tears hot on his cheeks.
Crying was probably something else you weren't supposed to do, but Giles didn't tell him to stop, just tightened his arms and nuzzled against the top of Spike's head, kissing it until Spike realized that if he moved, if he dared, he could tilt his head back and maybe Giles would kiss him properly.
Although given the state of his face, maybe not.
"Tissue," he croaked. "Please?"
Giles turned away and reached behind him, snagging a few tissues from the box beside the bed and pushing them into Spike's waiting hand. Spike moved back reluctantly to give himself space to blow his nose and scrub hard at his damp cheeks and then, when he saw the state of Giles' chest, giving that a dab too.
"Don't worry about it," Giles said. "We'll be showering soon." His hand came up to cup Spike's jaw and he leaned forward to kiss Spike, brushing his closed lips against Spike's cheek, high up, where the skin was still damp, and then moving down to Spike's mouth, giving him half a dozen unhurried kisses along the line of his lips before sighing and pulling Spike to him and kissing him full on the mouth.
Spike whimpered and clung to Giles in gratitude, trying not to kiss him back with too much eagerness because he didn't want to get carried away and be doing anything Giles didn't want him to do. But fuck, Giles' mouth tasted so good, and the way Giles' tongue pushed into Spike's mouth, like Giles owned him and could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, was exactly what Spike needed just then. He was pliable, cooperative; eager for anything Giles might want or ask for.
"I'll do anything you say," Spike mumbled, not pulling his lips away, because that would have required more self-control than he had just then. "Anything. Love you."
"That's good to hear," Giles said, the words almost inaudible, almost lost in the slide of his mouth against Spike's, but they were so close that Spike heard them anyway and the ones that followed. "I love you, too, Spike. More than you think I do. I wish I could tell you to believe that. Wish I wasn't so terrible at making both of you see what you mean to me."
"No," Spike said, running his hand up and down along Giles' back, trusting Giles to stop him if it wasn't what was wanted. "No, it's not your fault. S'mine. I'm so fucked up, Giles." He was looking into Giles' eyes now, no longer kissing him although he still very much wanted to be. "Don't want to do things that hurt you, but I can't help it." He swallowed, ducking his chin and kissing Giles' throat, his shoulder, his chest. Worshipping him. "So afraid you're going to get fed up with me and toss me out. I deserve it."
"You've done nothing to deserve it yet," Giles told him, sounding as if he meant it. "You'd have to do more than I think you're capable of to get to that point. And I'd stop you before you did. Trust me on that." Spike felt Giles' hand on the back of his neck, curving around it possessively and making him shiver. "That's why I'm doing this. To prove to you that I can stop you. To make you feel safe." Giles' grip tightened and his voice shifted from warmly reassuring to harsh, which, in some ways, was just as welcome. "Which doesn't mean you can do as you please and leave me to pick up the pieces. And it really doesn't mean that you're permitted to misbehave just to get my attention." Giles' thumb stroked along the strip of skin under Spike's ear, digging in painfully. "If you want me to hurt you, just a little, just enough, I'm sure you can find ways of asking for it that don't make me want to kick your arse."
"Not that I'd mind if you wanted to," Spike said, reaching for Giles' hand and guiding it down to his sore and swollen -- felt like it, at any rate -- arse and pushed back into the touch, gasping slightly. "Though there are other things you could to do my arse that we'd both like better." He was probably pushing the limits of what Giles would tolerate from him, but no way to know where they were until he'd tested them, right?
"Glad to see you're feeling recovered enough to make helpful suggestions," Giles murmured blandly, his eyebrow quirking up, and suddenly being this close to him felt like a risky place to be, not a sanctuary. Xander and Giles were both taller than him, both heavier -- it'd never mattered before, when what he was had more than evened the odds, but now Spike was very conscious of the fact that Giles was stronger than he was. Not that Giles needed that kind of strength to have Spike jumping through his hoops, but it didn't hurt he supposed.
"Shower," Giles said decisively, giving Spike's arse a smack that sent Spike rubbing up against him, squirming away instinctively from Giles' hand. "And then breakfast. I'm starving."
Spike hadn't thought about it until just then, but so was he. He slid to the edge of the bed, wincing, and got up, waiting for Giles to do the same before he moved at all. Giles got up and started for the bathroom as if assuming Spike would follow, so Spike did, relaxed and happy enough to be obedient.
In the bathroom, Giles reached to turn on the shower. "I can do that," Spike offered.
Giles gave him a thoughtful look and nodded, stepping back to give Spike room to get to the controls. "I want you to stay close to me today," he said abruptly. "Bathroom breaks aside, you're to be in the same room as me unless I give you a specific instruction, close enough to touch."
Spike nodded, preoccupied with getting the water temperature the way he thought Giles would like it, and then stepped back deferentially. "That okay?"
Extending his hand, Giles tested the water, holding his hand under the spray. "It's fine. Thank you." He got in, and when Spike stayed outside, not sure whether to offer to wash Giles, or wait to be told, said pointedly, "I can't touch you. I suggest you get in here before I notice that officially."
Quickly, and smiling a little because he couldn't help it, Spike got into the shower. He didn't quite touch Giles, but the shower wasn't big enough that he could be in it and not be within touching distance. "Don't know what you want me to do if you don't tell me," he said, apologetically. "Don't want to misbehave."
Giles leaned back, making room for Spike to step under the spray, which he did, a little uncertainly. "I did tell you that you had to stay close," he said reasonably. "And I'm not going to spend the weekend controlling every breath you take. I want you to be you, in all your sometimes aggravating glory. That won't be misbehaving; it'll be saving me from getting bored to death." He closed his eyes as the water coursed over his face and then opened them, and nodded at the shower gel hanging from a hook on the wall. "For instance, if I tell you to wash me, I'd like to think that's all I need to say. And I am saying it. Wash me, please, and then yourself." Giles grinned at him unexpectedly. "I like the way you look when you're wet," he said. "Or haven't you noticed how often you get fucked when you're still damp from the shower?"
Spike felt his cock stir slightly as he got the shower gel and squeezed some out onto his palm, then began to wash Giles, starting with his broad shoulders. He liked the way Giles' skin felt -- always a little bit cooler than he seemed to be. And he liked the way Giles closed his eyes and made little sounds when he touched him. He worked up some lather -- not easy to do with shower gel -- and smoothed it over Giles' chest, feeling Giles' nipples harden a bit against his fingertips. He didn't linger, though; Giles had said to wash him, not waste time enjoying it. Still, Spike was enjoying it, maybe a little too much.
"Turn around?" he asked, and took several deep breaths while he washed Giles' back and arse, trying to will away the erection that was starting to get the better of him.
"Now you," Giles ordered, turning around unexpectedly so that Spike didn't have chance to step back and the tip of his cock brushed against Giles' hip and stomach. Giles glanced down and smiled. "Wash yourself," he said. "Nothing else." Then Spike was biting down on his lip because Giles had taken the tip of his finger and traced a circle on the exposed head of Spike's cock, rubbing the pad of his finger over the slit until Spike was quivering with the need for more. That light touch was the first direct caress his cock had had from Giles since this started, and it wasn't enough.
Still, he tried to obey. Did his best to wash his chest and belly, ignoring his trembling hands as Giles continued to do just what he was doing and no more. Spike's balls were drawn up tight, and he discovered that he was standing on the front halves of his feet as he strained forward. "'m yours," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut again, because looking at Giles and what Giles was doing was just making it -- and him -- that much harder. "I want to be good for you."
Giles's fingers curled loosely around Spike's cock, sliding up and down, barely touching it. It was like being fucked by air. Spike reached out blindly and grabbed Giles' free arm to keep himself from going to his knees.
"And am I making it... hard for you to be good?" Giles asked, the amusement in his voice showing that the pun was intentional. His voice darkened. "Did you really think that I was going to make it easy on you, Spike?" His hand finally dropped away, leaving Spike shaking, with the insistent patter of water on his cock as tormenting as Giles' touch. "Finish washing yourself. I want to see you clean your cock, your balls. I want to see you slide a hand between your legs, want to watch your face when you slip a finger inside your arse. Manage to do all that without coming and I promise I'll fuck you later."
Spike swallowed, closing his eyes and letting go of Giles' arm, determined to do this. He'd just come half an hour ago, for fuck's sake. He could wait to come again. Not like he was some seventeen year old virgin, right? He was a man. He began to wash his cock, careful to do a good enough job so Giles wouldn't complain about it. It felt good, yeah... no. No, couldn't think about how it felt. He just had to focus on the job, and on the fact that he wasn't going to disappoint Giles. Done that enough for one weekend.
Licking his lips, Spike reached down with his other hand and soaped his balls, letting go of his cock. Then he slipped that same hand back, fingers slick over his perineum before he slid one into his arse, and oh, fuck, bloody fucking hell. His cock throbbed painfully, a thin stream of pre-come jolted from him and, luckily, washed away.
Triumphant, gasping, Spike removed his hands and held them under the running water, meeting Giles' eyes.
Giles looked... proud of him. It wasn't an emotion Spike was used to seeing directed at him, and it left him hungry for more. "Good boy," Giles murmured over the hiss of the water, which was starting to turn cooler. "Oh, you did that so well for me."
And because, when it came down to it, Giles was kinder to him than he deserved, he didn't touch Spike again, because if he had Spike wouldn't have been able to hold back.
Giles reached behind him and switched off the shower. "Dry yourself and then go down and make some coffee. I'll be down when I've got dressed."
Which was when Spike remembered that he wasn't allowed to get dressed himself. Not that it mattered. Modesty was something he didn't really possess any more, sloughed off the first time Angelus had snickered at him for trying to cover Drusilla's bare breasts when Angelus sauntered into their bedroom. Snickered and then told Drusilla to sit naked in a chair, bare legs hooked over its arms, fingering herself languidly as the three of them watched, Angelus' hands clamped around Spike's skull so that he couldn't look away, watched, his face burning with humiliation for her, even as she cried out and came, sucking her sticky fingers clean afterwards, with a small, secret smile on her face.
"It's just skin," Angelus had said into his ear. "Skin and bone. The blood's all that matters, and that's on the inside, where you can't see." And he'd taken a knife and sliced a line across Spike's hand. "Now you're naked," he'd whispered, dabbling a finger in the pooling blood.
So, no, Spike didn't mind spending the day naked.
Until Giles walked into the kitchen, snug in jeans and a sweater, and ran a careless, casual hand over Spike's bare back, and Spike felt himself flush, feeling awkward, feeling as if he was doing something wrong.
The kettle had just come to a boil, so Spike concentrated on pouring water over the coffee grounds in the cafetiere. His erection had subsided, and his awareness of what would happen if his hand slipped while he was pouring boiling water while naked made him unusually careful as he finished the job and put the kettle down again.
He glanced at Giles, waiting.
"Charmingly novel though it is to be waited on, I want bacon and eggs this morning," Giles said. His gaze flickered up and down Spike. "I don't think you're dressed for cooking that. Set the table, please."
Spike went to get plates and cutlery, glancing out at the best weather England had to offer in February: high winds, lashing rain and mist. By comparison, the kitchen was a brightly lit haven. He shivered, more from what he was looking at than how he felt, and set the plates down on the table, hesitating before moving his plate to the side of the table rather than the foot so that he was as close as possible to Giles.
That done, Spike returned to where Giles was and stood behind him, close enough to be touched. The heat coming from the range top where Giles had started two burners going wasn't enough to warm him, but he felt better standing close to Giles than he had across the room.
As Giles added strips of bacon to the larger pan, Spike was struck by an almost overwhelming urge to put his arms around Giles' waist and press his face to Giles' back. "Anything else I can do?" he asked instead.
"It's too soon to make toast; it'd be cold by the time the bacon was ready," Giles said, shaking the frying pan slightly and producing a sizzle and a smell that had Spike's mouth anticipating that first taste of slightly salty meat. Without turning, Giles said casually, "Go and kneel by your chair until I need you again."
The surge of defiance Spike felt at that -- at being dismissed like he was nothing -- was replaced almost immediately by despair. If all Giles had done in the past twelve hours wasn't enough to keep him in line, what would be?
Slowly, he went over to the table and got down on his knees next to his chair. The floor was hard and uncomfortable, but Spike sat back on his heels as best he could, trying not to let too much weight rest on his arse because it bloody hurt. Felt like Xander had taken one of those rotary sanders or whatever the fuck they were called to it.
He shouldn't be letting himself complain, not even in his head. Spike knew that. It'd only increase the chances he'd say something stupid out loud; make Giles have to punish him again. At the thought, his cock swelled slightly, betraying him, even if only to himself since Giles was busy over at the range.
Spike tried to concentrate on the smell of the food cooking, and waited.
"By the way," Giles said, breaking the silence, his voice still completely normal. "When you went out yesterday, did you take back those DVDs you and Xander rented? I noticed they were due to be returned."
He turned his head to glance at Spike, looking utterly relaxed as if this was always how the day went, as if Spike was just where he should be. Had to be an act, because Giles had dropped enough hints about how difficult this was for him to make it impossible that he was really this at ease, but Spike couldn't see any signs of discomfort. In fact, there was a small, cool, satisfied smile on Giles' face that had a snarl building up behind Spike's clenched teeth.
"I forgot," he said tightly. "Want to punish me for that, too?"
"For that? No. For using that tone with me? Yes." Giles turned back to his bacon. "But I'm hungry, so you'll have to wait, I'm afraid. Never mind the toast; you can spend a little longer on your knees instead."
Spike seethed in silence. Each second he spent on his knees felt like an hour, his bones aching like he was a hundred years old. He wondered why he didn't just get up and storm out of the room, shouting that he was done with this. It wasn't like Giles would stop him.
But, when it came right down to it, Spike did want to get this sorted out, if that was even possible. He wanted to be secure in the knowledge that Giles could -- and would -- keep control for him when he couldn't do it himself. He needed that, because hurting Xander and Giles, that just wasn't an option. He hated himself for doing it, and he never wanted to do it again.
By the time Giles had finished cooking breakfast, Spike had managed to lull himself into a state of peace again. "Sorry," he said, not to get out of being punished, because he deserved that, but because Giles deserved the apology. "Shouldn't have been rude."
Giles brought the frying pan over to the table and dished up the breakfast without ceremony. "You weren't very rude," he said. "Not by your standards. But it's still more attitude than I'm prepared to permit right now." He sat down and drew his plate a little closer. "Oh, get up and eat," he said half-impatiently, as if it'd been Spike's choice to kneel, shivering slightly and hurting, on the floor. "And don't bother asking for a cushion."
It wasn't like he'd expected Giles to be overcome by the novelty of an apology from him, but the offhand way it was received left Spike speechless with indignation. Sitting down with a soft hiss of pain as his backside smacked down on the bare wood of the chair, he gave Giles a reproachful look and picked up his knife and fork.
"Are you annoyed with me, Spike?" Giles asked mildly, cutting a bacon slice into quarters. "Feel free, of course, but if I were you, I'd hide it a little better."
"I'm not annoyed," Spike said grudgingly. It wasn't totally a lie, and it was made easier by the fact that he was hungry enough to have eaten six breakfasts. He shoveled a mouthful of egg and bacon into his mouth and chewed, sighing as the taste of it filled his senses.
Giles gave him a sidelong glance and let him eat in peace, making the occasional desultory comment about work and some odd jobs that needed doing around the house, but waiting until Spike had swallowed one last mouthful of coffee before turning the conversation back to their situation.
"You're shivering. I don't think you'd be very comfortable in jeans, but perhaps I should reconsider keeping you naked?" Giles reached out and ran his fingers across Spike's chest. "Not that I'm not enjoying looking at you, but if Xander comes back and finds you down with a cold, he won't be pleased with me."
"Not likely to be pleased with either of us regardless, is he?" Spike said. It wasn't something Giles would want to talk about, but he knew they both had to be thinking it.
"Probably not," Giles admitted, frowning slightly. He leaned back in his chair. "You're more bothered about Xander being angry with you than you are when it's me, aren't you?" he asked. "Why?" He sounded genuinely curious.
Spike looked down at the table as he answered. "Know that I can trust you to get mad enough to do something about it," he said. "Shout at me, tell me off. Shove me up against a wall." His eyes flicked up to meet Giles' for a second; he remembered the times that had happened. Always made him hard to think of it. "Xander... just gets hurt, doesn't he? Buries it all inside himself, figures out a way to make what I did about him whether it is or not."
He could see Giles thinking that over, taking longer than Spike had expected. "He's considerably more emotionally vulnerable than me, yes," Giles said eventually. "But this time, at least, it is all about him. Or do you think I didn't notice just why you picked that particular boy? Did you want a Xander you could control, instead of the other way around? Because if so, I'm not impressed by your powers of perception. Xander would do anything for you. Anything."
Spike shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, hoping Giles would think it was because he was cold. "Wouldn't take me with him," he muttered. "Wouldn't stay." He was being utterly unfair, and he knew it, but he couldn't help it.
"He's allowed to go away," Giles said reasonably. "And it's only for a weekend; I really don't see why you're so angry with him." Giles was sounding just a little put-out now. "I went to Paris for a week in October and you didn't react like this."
"You went for work, not to see friends," Spike said. It was a completely different thing; couldn't Giles see that? "Knew you were coming back, didn't I." Oh, fuck. He hadn't realized he was going to say that until he had. He looked at Giles in alarm. "Not that I don't trust him to come back; course I do."
"Oh, of course you do," Giles said. "You trust him so much that within hours of him leaving you're picking out an entirely inadequate replacement." Giles shoved his chair back and stood up, reaching for his plate with a hand that wasn't perfectly steady. "I don't suppose it occurred to you that if I thought there was the smallest chance that Xander wouldn't be returning I'd be in a worse state than you? Or do you think you're the only one who cares about him?"
"Never said I was being rational," Spike said. He wasn't stupid -- he knew where his fear of abandonment came from. He just didn't know what to do about it. Getting up, he took his own plate and things to the sink, setting them on the counter and taking Giles' from him. It didn't take long to load the dishwasher, after all, and he was warmer -- not to mention more distracted -- while he was moving. "Giles?" he said, while his back was turned.
"Yes, Spike?"
Spike swallowed, cleared his throat. "If he didn't... not saying that he won't, but if he didn't come back, would you still..." He couldn't say it. Made him sound like a berk, didn't it. Would you still love me?
"There are times when you verge on cryptic," Giles said crisply. "This would be one of them. Would I still what? Still love him? Miss him dreadfully? Yes, of course." Giles turned as Spike straightened up and closed the dishwasher door, his face going from puzzled to enlightened in less time than it took for Spike to take a quick, panicked breath. "Oh. You weren't talking about him, were you?"
Spike shook his head slowly, completely incapable of saying it. Saying anything.
"My feelings for you are -- not dependent on the three of us being together," Giles said quietly. "They wouldn't alter if Xander wasn't with us. Which isn't to say that I don't need him quite desperately at times, because I do." He stepped forward, close enough that Spike had to tilt his head back to still be able to hold his gaze. "I need you both. I love you both. I'll do anything it takes to keep us together because I think that goes for all of us. I have moments of worrying that I'm deluding myself on that score -- times when I think that you'd both manage very well without me -- but mostly I'm ... vain enough to think that without me you two would get torn apart by how much you care."
Giles sighed. "You're not the only one of us with insecurities, Spike. I'm just left wondering what shape Xander's take." He ran his hand over Spike's arm. "You're getting cold."
"Yeah," Spike said, moving in closer to Giles in the hopes he'd feel like touching something more than his arm.
Giles' hand moved down to caress Spike's hip, his thumb rubbing gently over the hollow of skin between it and Spike's stomach. "Positively freezing," Giles murmured. "Oh well, I did say you could put on a shirt, didn't I? I'm far too lenient with you, I know, but goose bumps don't suit you." He gave Spike a smile and reached around to swat his backside briskly, drawing a surprised yelp. "Off you go then."
Spike twitched away from Giles and did his best not to glare at him as he started out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.
"Wear something of Xander's!" Giles called to him.
"What?" Spike said, turning, not sure he'd heard right.
More loudly, Giles repeated, "Choose a shirt of Xander's to wear."
Spike wasn't sure he wanted to think too much about the reasons for that.
Previous parts are here.
Pervasion
by Jane Davitt and Wesleysgirl
Part Three
Spike woke several times during the night, once to discover that he'd rolled away and stopped touching Giles. That instinctively set his heart racing, and he quickly moved back to his previous position. He ached in ways he hadn't since before he'd turned human, which was saying a lot considering some of the stuff they'd got up to in bed, but it was a good ache.
When he stirred and woke slowly to find the morning sunshine creeping into the room, he opened his eyes and glanced up at Giles, who was still sleeping. Spike wanted to be good for Giles -- he really did -- but he couldn't help but wonder what the reaction would be to him waking Giles with a morning blow job. And Giles' cock was right there, waiting to be worshipped. Spike wanted to feel it inside him, fucking him. He'd wanted that last night, and when Giles had fucked his mouth... God, that had been good. Perfect.
Tentatively, Spike shifted a bit and pressed his lips to Giles' shaft, breathing warm air over it before taking the head into his mouth. It began to swell instantly, and he made a small hum of satisfaction and continued to suck gently, wondering for how long he could before Giles woke up.
He could tell when Giles woke because the muscles of his leg, pressed against Spike's arm, tensed and then relaxed, but Giles didn't speak or move, so Spike carried on with what he was doing, sending his tongue out to lick and curl around the fully erect cock in his mouth with a little less diffidence.
When Giles moved, it was unexpected and fast. His hand came down and Spike gasped, his mouth opening, which was probably what Giles had intended, as Giles yanked brutally at his hair.
"Up here," Giles said, shifting back so that his cock slipped out of Spike's mouth. He sounded sleepy, but firm. "Let me show you what I do to people who wake me up early on a Saturday morning..."
Spike felt a delicious twist of fear in his gut as he obeyed, his arse protesting the movement enough to make him wince.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Giles murmured without a shred of sympathy in his voice or on his face, his hand coming up to touch Spike's mouth, tracing the shape of it before dropping away. Spike missed the kiss he'd have got on any other day but didn't even dare to purse his lips just a little against those exploring fingers. "Backside a bit tender, is it?"
"A bit," Spike said. He shifted, trying to pretend that he was just getting comfortable rather than surreptitiously rubbing his cock against Giles' thigh.
"You can stop that right now," Giles said, giving Spike's arse a light, stinging smack that didn't hurt as much as remind him of all those other, not so light slaps. "This, if it's anything, is about teaching you some self-control. So far, you're not impressing me. And don't count on getting to come for a long time. You'll have to earn that."
Spike managed to stop himself, but it wasn't easy. His cock already ached, wanting Giles' touch. "Could be good for you," he murmured, trying to sound enticing. "Make you feel good."
"Oh, you're going to be very good," Giles told him with a smile that looked pretty evil for this early in the morning. "I won't have it any other way."
He sounded as if he meant that and Spike shuddered, moving restlessly beside him.
Giles sat up and stripped the covers off them, making Spike's skin prickle with a sudden chill. "On your back, Spike," he said. "Legs apart, and your hands, hmm --" Spike rolled to his back, gritting his teeth against a whimper as the sheet chafed his bruised skin and spreading his legs wide, feeling ridiculously exposed considering Giles knew every inch of him by now.
Giles' hand slid into his, his thumb rubbing a slow circle against Spike's palm. "You won't be needing your hands," he said, "so let's get them out of the way, shall we?"
Spike let Giles position his hands around the bars of the headboard, feeling the muscles in his upper arms protest at once. Giles knelt back and studied him, which was like being touched lightly all over when Giles had that look in his eyes.
When another pillow got shoved under his head, Spike knew what was coming, and he really couldn't help the way his hips lifted, just a little, off the bed.
Giles's lips twitched in a faint smile. "Eager and optimistic. You're not to come, Spike. That can be your punishment for waking me up. For trying to make me do things your way."
Giles ran his hands up along Spike's sides as he settled over him, straddling Spike's waist and then shifting up. Giles was watching Spike's face, and Spike worried for a minute that maybe he didn't look the way he was supposed to. Whatever that was.
Then Giles' thumb ran over Spike's bottom lip, and Spike opened his mouth to let Giles' cock in.
"Good," Giles murmured, and Spike felt his own cock throb at the praise as he sucked. The taste of Giles was heavy on his tongue, salty, familiar, but Giles didn't give him a chance to really do much on his own. Next thing Spike knew, Giles thrust forward, deep, and almost all Spike's focus was on finding a rhythm that let him breathe as Giles started to fuck his mouth.
He hadn't been told not to move, but Spike did his best to keep still, to be there for Giles, just as Giles wanted him. To be used; to give pleasure, not take it. Although he'd have been lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this, no matter how frustrated he was feeling.
His cock was jerking, as if it was searching for a hand to touch it, a mouth of its own to slide into. Spike flashed back to the last time that Giles had gone down on him, remembering how Giles had known just how to ease off, just when to suck harder, making it last for so much longer than Spike had expected and then, when he'd finished, lifting his head and smiling up at Spike, looking as if he'd enjoyed it as much as Spike had.
Giles wasn't smiling now.
Spike squinted up at him. Giles had one hand on the top rail of the headboard and the other was under Spike's neck, holding him still. From this angle Giles looked determined and not in the least like a man who was going to relent, no matter how good a job Spike did.
Fuck. Spike closed his eyes and tried to ignore half a dozen different signals from his body that it wasn't happy -- and as many more that it was.
But it was impossible to ignore the way his hands and arms ached from the way he was clutching onto the bars of the headboard. Spike decided to concentrate on that, on the slow, dull burn of human muscles pushed to their limits. Giles' cock in his mouth was big, and Spike's lips were starting to feel raw from the friction of having his mouth fucked twice so close together.
Spike could feel the tip of his own cock beaded up with fluid, his balls so tight that there was a heavy sensation in his belly. Giles' thrusts were a bit slower but no less forceful, and Spike groaned loudly on the next one, his nostrils flaring as he tried to take in enough air.
Giles paused, easing out of Spike's mouth nearly all the way, moving his hand from the headboard to the base of his cock and rubbing the tip of it across Spike's lips.
"Something you want to say?" he asked, managing, fuck knows how, to sound cool, even though his chest was rising and falling with rapid, uneven breaths. He began to jerk off with slow, hard strokes that meant Spike's mouth was getting nudged forcefully every second or so, with Giles managing to hit the same spot each time. Giles was far enough along that the head of his cock was wet with more than Spike's spit and the musky, clean taste of him filled Spike's mouth as he took advantage of the respite to catch his breath.
"Fuck me," Spike said pleadingly, his voice sounding ragged and desperate even to his own ears. He wanted Giles to fuck him for real, but even having his mouth used was better than nothing. Just the thought of it made him harder. Looking up into Giles' eyes, cold and glittering with arousal, Spike gasped and realized, too late, that he was on the verge of coming just from the feel of his sore arse rubbing on the sheets, each spark of pain jolting up into his balls. He didn't even have time to warn Giles -- just hung onto the bars as he came, shutting his eyes tightly because he couldn't bear to see the disappointment he knew would be on Giles' face.
Giles moved off him, with the creak of the bed the only sound in the room apart from the ones Spike was making because he couldn't help it; low groans as his traitorous body gave way to a pleasure he couldn't enjoy.
"Open your eyes," Giles said, his voice neutral enough to make Spike shiver. He forced himself to obey, blinking up at Giles, who was kneeling beside him, staring expressionlessly at the trail of come decorating Spike's stomach.
Immediately, Spike forced himself to move, pressing his mouth to Giles's knees, thighs, begging for forgiveness with his actions.
Giles let him do that for a few moments and then threaded his fingers through Spike's hair, halting him. "It's all right, Spike," he said with a distant amusement that stung worse than anger. "I'm aware of the fact that you didn't intend that to happen." His fingers began to move through Spike's hair, soothing and strong, rubbing over his head in a swirling pattern that matched the chaos of Spike's thoughts. "So shall I be kind to you? Shall I overlook what I could view as a flagrant disregard of my wishes?"
Somehow Spike didn't see that happening.
"Or shall we teach you that disobedience gets rewarded by something a little less pleasant than forgiveness? Is that a lesson you're prepared to learn, Spike?"
Spike shivered and licked his upper lip, his face tilted up toward Giles. He wanted forgiveness, didn't he? Another shiver ran through him, this one stronger than the previous one, as he tried to sort out what to ask for. He knew what he wanted, but that probably wasn't the same as what he needed, and if this whole thing was about getting what he needed while he could...
"Gonna hurt me?" Spike asked hoarsely, taking advantage of Giles' loosened grip on his hair to bend his head and lick Giles' thigh. Giles tightened his hold again, pulling Spike back so there was no choice but to look up at him. Spike gave a little moan. "Do it," he breathed. "Punish me, Giles. I need it." And the word that was the hardest to get out: "Please."
"You broke position," Giles said in that calm, mild voice that did... things... to Spike. Good things, bad things -- he wasn't sure. Just knew that when Giles stared at him with that hint of a smile that wasn't remotely amused, and spoke to him like that, he was always going to get that ache of want deep down, always going to want to do anything Giles asked.
Giles released him and Spike moved to his back again, curling his fingers around the rail, never taking his eyes off Giles.
"I was close to coming myself before you interrupted me," Giles said, still kneeling beside Spike. "How close, I wonder?"
His hand dropped to his cock and began to work it with slow, deliberate strokes. Spike tried to count them, but then Giles stiffened, speeding up, and when he climaxed, his come spattering across Spike's chest, Spike couldn't have said how many strokes it had been, so he had to take Giles' word for it when he said 'fourteen' in a voice that was just a little unsteady.
Giles placed his hand flat on Spike's chest and dragged it down, coating it with his come and Spike's. His hand felt hot against Spike's skin; as hot as it had felt the night before after he'd finished turning Spike's arse scarlet.
"Turn over," Giles whispered.
Twisting over onto his front and replacing his hands on the rail hurt, but the fourteen solid, stinging slaps on skin still raw hurt even more. Giles wasn't holding back at all, even though, through the roaring in his ears, Spike was sure he could hear Giles gasping as each slap landed, as if he were having to force himself to keep each blow as hard as the one before it.
Spike got lost in the pain of it, feeling it spark along his nerves. Every part of his body was at attention, his nipples hard, his toes curled. Even his teeth ached. He knew he had to be crying out, but he couldn't hear himself, he was so deep in. Bad. He was bad, unworthy, always had been, always would be, but Giles could make it better. Couldn't take it away permanently-- oh, no, nothing could do that -- but could drive it out of him for a little while.
When it was over, Spike heard himself weeping, broken sobs that tore at his throat, but he didn't feel anything but intense relief.
He thought he heard Giles telling him to let go, but it wasn't until he felt a light touch on his fingers that he released the rail, moaning as his cramped hands straightened and flexed, tucking them under his chin for comfort. Giles moved to lie beside him, stroking his back with firm, gentle touches that didn't stop, his body as close as it could get, warm and strong and loving.
" -- got you. I'm here. Always," Giles murmured. "I won't let you do something wrong again. Won't let you hurt Xander. I'll stop you, I promise. Until you can do it yourself. Until you know --"
And that was it, right there. Because he didn't know. He'd been human once, in a world not so different than this, but since then -- too much had changed. He'd changed. Warped and twisted by a demon inside him and trained by Angelus. Tortured by Angelus, but it hadn't seemed that way at the time. Not to a vampire. Spike wondered if the real reason Angel had kicked him out was that he couldn't bear to see himself judged by Spike and found guilty. Even with a soul Spike had still had enough of the demon in him not to really care too much about what Angelus had done to him; but now, purely human, he couldn't help a shudder of revulsion at the thought of it.
Not like he was going to get more human than thou though, was it? Because he didn't feel human. Didn't feel as if he knew how to act, what was acceptable. He could've sat down to lunch with the Queen and known what fork to use, but when it came to love, to relationships what the fuck did he know? When he'd argued with Dru, they'd kissed and made up on sheets splattered with their blood, for Christ's sake.
He needed to be told, to be shown. And when he fucked it up, he needed this. Only way he was going to learn. Only way he knew how to learn.
Angelus whispering to him, dark eyes flat and cold as he told him what he'd done wrong, the reek of blood thick and rich in the air as his fingers worked deep inside Spike's torn, ravaged body, only stopping when Spike screamed, only smiling when Drusilla fluttered and cooed and kissed each wound, feeding from them, her teeth sharp and unforgiving.
Heedless of the pain, Spike rolled to his side and huddled inside Giles' arms, hiding his face against Giles' shoulder in an agony of shamed memories.
Giles held him, seeming to understand how desperately Spike needed the comfort. But Spike was too upset to even cry now, just clutching at Giles, wanting Giles to hold him tighter. He wanted to feel Giles' fingers digging into him, wanted the comfort of pain, if that's what it was. Comfort? Punishment? Maybe they were the same thing. Maybe they always would be.
He could hear Giles murmuring soft words to him. He shook his head against Giles' chest, feeling how tight his own was, how much his lungs ached.
"It's all right," filtered through to his ears, Giles' words settling into something that made sense again. The heel of Giles' hand rubbed over his back. "Breathe, Spike."
Oh. Right. Breathing. Spike inhaled. His lungs burned; his throat was raw, his eyes stinging, and then he was crying again, with the air like acid in him and the tears hot on his cheeks.
Crying was probably something else you weren't supposed to do, but Giles didn't tell him to stop, just tightened his arms and nuzzled against the top of Spike's head, kissing it until Spike realized that if he moved, if he dared, he could tilt his head back and maybe Giles would kiss him properly.
Although given the state of his face, maybe not.
"Tissue," he croaked. "Please?"
Giles turned away and reached behind him, snagging a few tissues from the box beside the bed and pushing them into Spike's waiting hand. Spike moved back reluctantly to give himself space to blow his nose and scrub hard at his damp cheeks and then, when he saw the state of Giles' chest, giving that a dab too.
"Don't worry about it," Giles said. "We'll be showering soon." His hand came up to cup Spike's jaw and he leaned forward to kiss Spike, brushing his closed lips against Spike's cheek, high up, where the skin was still damp, and then moving down to Spike's mouth, giving him half a dozen unhurried kisses along the line of his lips before sighing and pulling Spike to him and kissing him full on the mouth.
Spike whimpered and clung to Giles in gratitude, trying not to kiss him back with too much eagerness because he didn't want to get carried away and be doing anything Giles didn't want him to do. But fuck, Giles' mouth tasted so good, and the way Giles' tongue pushed into Spike's mouth, like Giles owned him and could take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, was exactly what Spike needed just then. He was pliable, cooperative; eager for anything Giles might want or ask for.
"I'll do anything you say," Spike mumbled, not pulling his lips away, because that would have required more self-control than he had just then. "Anything. Love you."
"That's good to hear," Giles said, the words almost inaudible, almost lost in the slide of his mouth against Spike's, but they were so close that Spike heard them anyway and the ones that followed. "I love you, too, Spike. More than you think I do. I wish I could tell you to believe that. Wish I wasn't so terrible at making both of you see what you mean to me."
"No," Spike said, running his hand up and down along Giles' back, trusting Giles to stop him if it wasn't what was wanted. "No, it's not your fault. S'mine. I'm so fucked up, Giles." He was looking into Giles' eyes now, no longer kissing him although he still very much wanted to be. "Don't want to do things that hurt you, but I can't help it." He swallowed, ducking his chin and kissing Giles' throat, his shoulder, his chest. Worshipping him. "So afraid you're going to get fed up with me and toss me out. I deserve it."
"You've done nothing to deserve it yet," Giles told him, sounding as if he meant it. "You'd have to do more than I think you're capable of to get to that point. And I'd stop you before you did. Trust me on that." Spike felt Giles' hand on the back of his neck, curving around it possessively and making him shiver. "That's why I'm doing this. To prove to you that I can stop you. To make you feel safe." Giles' grip tightened and his voice shifted from warmly reassuring to harsh, which, in some ways, was just as welcome. "Which doesn't mean you can do as you please and leave me to pick up the pieces. And it really doesn't mean that you're permitted to misbehave just to get my attention." Giles' thumb stroked along the strip of skin under Spike's ear, digging in painfully. "If you want me to hurt you, just a little, just enough, I'm sure you can find ways of asking for it that don't make me want to kick your arse."
"Not that I'd mind if you wanted to," Spike said, reaching for Giles' hand and guiding it down to his sore and swollen -- felt like it, at any rate -- arse and pushed back into the touch, gasping slightly. "Though there are other things you could to do my arse that we'd both like better." He was probably pushing the limits of what Giles would tolerate from him, but no way to know where they were until he'd tested them, right?
"Glad to see you're feeling recovered enough to make helpful suggestions," Giles murmured blandly, his eyebrow quirking up, and suddenly being this close to him felt like a risky place to be, not a sanctuary. Xander and Giles were both taller than him, both heavier -- it'd never mattered before, when what he was had more than evened the odds, but now Spike was very conscious of the fact that Giles was stronger than he was. Not that Giles needed that kind of strength to have Spike jumping through his hoops, but it didn't hurt he supposed.
"Shower," Giles said decisively, giving Spike's arse a smack that sent Spike rubbing up against him, squirming away instinctively from Giles' hand. "And then breakfast. I'm starving."
Spike hadn't thought about it until just then, but so was he. He slid to the edge of the bed, wincing, and got up, waiting for Giles to do the same before he moved at all. Giles got up and started for the bathroom as if assuming Spike would follow, so Spike did, relaxed and happy enough to be obedient.
In the bathroom, Giles reached to turn on the shower. "I can do that," Spike offered.
Giles gave him a thoughtful look and nodded, stepping back to give Spike room to get to the controls. "I want you to stay close to me today," he said abruptly. "Bathroom breaks aside, you're to be in the same room as me unless I give you a specific instruction, close enough to touch."
Spike nodded, preoccupied with getting the water temperature the way he thought Giles would like it, and then stepped back deferentially. "That okay?"
Extending his hand, Giles tested the water, holding his hand under the spray. "It's fine. Thank you." He got in, and when Spike stayed outside, not sure whether to offer to wash Giles, or wait to be told, said pointedly, "I can't touch you. I suggest you get in here before I notice that officially."
Quickly, and smiling a little because he couldn't help it, Spike got into the shower. He didn't quite touch Giles, but the shower wasn't big enough that he could be in it and not be within touching distance. "Don't know what you want me to do if you don't tell me," he said, apologetically. "Don't want to misbehave."
Giles leaned back, making room for Spike to step under the spray, which he did, a little uncertainly. "I did tell you that you had to stay close," he said reasonably. "And I'm not going to spend the weekend controlling every breath you take. I want you to be you, in all your sometimes aggravating glory. That won't be misbehaving; it'll be saving me from getting bored to death." He closed his eyes as the water coursed over his face and then opened them, and nodded at the shower gel hanging from a hook on the wall. "For instance, if I tell you to wash me, I'd like to think that's all I need to say. And I am saying it. Wash me, please, and then yourself." Giles grinned at him unexpectedly. "I like the way you look when you're wet," he said. "Or haven't you noticed how often you get fucked when you're still damp from the shower?"
Spike felt his cock stir slightly as he got the shower gel and squeezed some out onto his palm, then began to wash Giles, starting with his broad shoulders. He liked the way Giles' skin felt -- always a little bit cooler than he seemed to be. And he liked the way Giles closed his eyes and made little sounds when he touched him. He worked up some lather -- not easy to do with shower gel -- and smoothed it over Giles' chest, feeling Giles' nipples harden a bit against his fingertips. He didn't linger, though; Giles had said to wash him, not waste time enjoying it. Still, Spike was enjoying it, maybe a little too much.
"Turn around?" he asked, and took several deep breaths while he washed Giles' back and arse, trying to will away the erection that was starting to get the better of him.
"Now you," Giles ordered, turning around unexpectedly so that Spike didn't have chance to step back and the tip of his cock brushed against Giles' hip and stomach. Giles glanced down and smiled. "Wash yourself," he said. "Nothing else." Then Spike was biting down on his lip because Giles had taken the tip of his finger and traced a circle on the exposed head of Spike's cock, rubbing the pad of his finger over the slit until Spike was quivering with the need for more. That light touch was the first direct caress his cock had had from Giles since this started, and it wasn't enough.
Still, he tried to obey. Did his best to wash his chest and belly, ignoring his trembling hands as Giles continued to do just what he was doing and no more. Spike's balls were drawn up tight, and he discovered that he was standing on the front halves of his feet as he strained forward. "'m yours," he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut again, because looking at Giles and what Giles was doing was just making it -- and him -- that much harder. "I want to be good for you."
Giles's fingers curled loosely around Spike's cock, sliding up and down, barely touching it. It was like being fucked by air. Spike reached out blindly and grabbed Giles' free arm to keep himself from going to his knees.
"And am I making it... hard for you to be good?" Giles asked, the amusement in his voice showing that the pun was intentional. His voice darkened. "Did you really think that I was going to make it easy on you, Spike?" His hand finally dropped away, leaving Spike shaking, with the insistent patter of water on his cock as tormenting as Giles' touch. "Finish washing yourself. I want to see you clean your cock, your balls. I want to see you slide a hand between your legs, want to watch your face when you slip a finger inside your arse. Manage to do all that without coming and I promise I'll fuck you later."
Spike swallowed, closing his eyes and letting go of Giles' arm, determined to do this. He'd just come half an hour ago, for fuck's sake. He could wait to come again. Not like he was some seventeen year old virgin, right? He was a man. He began to wash his cock, careful to do a good enough job so Giles wouldn't complain about it. It felt good, yeah... no. No, couldn't think about how it felt. He just had to focus on the job, and on the fact that he wasn't going to disappoint Giles. Done that enough for one weekend.
Licking his lips, Spike reached down with his other hand and soaped his balls, letting go of his cock. Then he slipped that same hand back, fingers slick over his perineum before he slid one into his arse, and oh, fuck, bloody fucking hell. His cock throbbed painfully, a thin stream of pre-come jolted from him and, luckily, washed away.
Triumphant, gasping, Spike removed his hands and held them under the running water, meeting Giles' eyes.
Giles looked... proud of him. It wasn't an emotion Spike was used to seeing directed at him, and it left him hungry for more. "Good boy," Giles murmured over the hiss of the water, which was starting to turn cooler. "Oh, you did that so well for me."
And because, when it came down to it, Giles was kinder to him than he deserved, he didn't touch Spike again, because if he had Spike wouldn't have been able to hold back.
Giles reached behind him and switched off the shower. "Dry yourself and then go down and make some coffee. I'll be down when I've got dressed."
Which was when Spike remembered that he wasn't allowed to get dressed himself. Not that it mattered. Modesty was something he didn't really possess any more, sloughed off the first time Angelus had snickered at him for trying to cover Drusilla's bare breasts when Angelus sauntered into their bedroom. Snickered and then told Drusilla to sit naked in a chair, bare legs hooked over its arms, fingering herself languidly as the three of them watched, Angelus' hands clamped around Spike's skull so that he couldn't look away, watched, his face burning with humiliation for her, even as she cried out and came, sucking her sticky fingers clean afterwards, with a small, secret smile on her face.
"It's just skin," Angelus had said into his ear. "Skin and bone. The blood's all that matters, and that's on the inside, where you can't see." And he'd taken a knife and sliced a line across Spike's hand. "Now you're naked," he'd whispered, dabbling a finger in the pooling blood.
So, no, Spike didn't mind spending the day naked.
Until Giles walked into the kitchen, snug in jeans and a sweater, and ran a careless, casual hand over Spike's bare back, and Spike felt himself flush, feeling awkward, feeling as if he was doing something wrong.
The kettle had just come to a boil, so Spike concentrated on pouring water over the coffee grounds in the cafetiere. His erection had subsided, and his awareness of what would happen if his hand slipped while he was pouring boiling water while naked made him unusually careful as he finished the job and put the kettle down again.
He glanced at Giles, waiting.
"Charmingly novel though it is to be waited on, I want bacon and eggs this morning," Giles said. His gaze flickered up and down Spike. "I don't think you're dressed for cooking that. Set the table, please."
Spike went to get plates and cutlery, glancing out at the best weather England had to offer in February: high winds, lashing rain and mist. By comparison, the kitchen was a brightly lit haven. He shivered, more from what he was looking at than how he felt, and set the plates down on the table, hesitating before moving his plate to the side of the table rather than the foot so that he was as close as possible to Giles.
That done, Spike returned to where Giles was and stood behind him, close enough to be touched. The heat coming from the range top where Giles had started two burners going wasn't enough to warm him, but he felt better standing close to Giles than he had across the room.
As Giles added strips of bacon to the larger pan, Spike was struck by an almost overwhelming urge to put his arms around Giles' waist and press his face to Giles' back. "Anything else I can do?" he asked instead.
"It's too soon to make toast; it'd be cold by the time the bacon was ready," Giles said, shaking the frying pan slightly and producing a sizzle and a smell that had Spike's mouth anticipating that first taste of slightly salty meat. Without turning, Giles said casually, "Go and kneel by your chair until I need you again."
The surge of defiance Spike felt at that -- at being dismissed like he was nothing -- was replaced almost immediately by despair. If all Giles had done in the past twelve hours wasn't enough to keep him in line, what would be?
Slowly, he went over to the table and got down on his knees next to his chair. The floor was hard and uncomfortable, but Spike sat back on his heels as best he could, trying not to let too much weight rest on his arse because it bloody hurt. Felt like Xander had taken one of those rotary sanders or whatever the fuck they were called to it.
He shouldn't be letting himself complain, not even in his head. Spike knew that. It'd only increase the chances he'd say something stupid out loud; make Giles have to punish him again. At the thought, his cock swelled slightly, betraying him, even if only to himself since Giles was busy over at the range.
Spike tried to concentrate on the smell of the food cooking, and waited.
"By the way," Giles said, breaking the silence, his voice still completely normal. "When you went out yesterday, did you take back those DVDs you and Xander rented? I noticed they were due to be returned."
He turned his head to glance at Spike, looking utterly relaxed as if this was always how the day went, as if Spike was just where he should be. Had to be an act, because Giles had dropped enough hints about how difficult this was for him to make it impossible that he was really this at ease, but Spike couldn't see any signs of discomfort. In fact, there was a small, cool, satisfied smile on Giles' face that had a snarl building up behind Spike's clenched teeth.
"I forgot," he said tightly. "Want to punish me for that, too?"
"For that? No. For using that tone with me? Yes." Giles turned back to his bacon. "But I'm hungry, so you'll have to wait, I'm afraid. Never mind the toast; you can spend a little longer on your knees instead."
Spike seethed in silence. Each second he spent on his knees felt like an hour, his bones aching like he was a hundred years old. He wondered why he didn't just get up and storm out of the room, shouting that he was done with this. It wasn't like Giles would stop him.
But, when it came right down to it, Spike did want to get this sorted out, if that was even possible. He wanted to be secure in the knowledge that Giles could -- and would -- keep control for him when he couldn't do it himself. He needed that, because hurting Xander and Giles, that just wasn't an option. He hated himself for doing it, and he never wanted to do it again.
By the time Giles had finished cooking breakfast, Spike had managed to lull himself into a state of peace again. "Sorry," he said, not to get out of being punished, because he deserved that, but because Giles deserved the apology. "Shouldn't have been rude."
Giles brought the frying pan over to the table and dished up the breakfast without ceremony. "You weren't very rude," he said. "Not by your standards. But it's still more attitude than I'm prepared to permit right now." He sat down and drew his plate a little closer. "Oh, get up and eat," he said half-impatiently, as if it'd been Spike's choice to kneel, shivering slightly and hurting, on the floor. "And don't bother asking for a cushion."
It wasn't like he'd expected Giles to be overcome by the novelty of an apology from him, but the offhand way it was received left Spike speechless with indignation. Sitting down with a soft hiss of pain as his backside smacked down on the bare wood of the chair, he gave Giles a reproachful look and picked up his knife and fork.
"Are you annoyed with me, Spike?" Giles asked mildly, cutting a bacon slice into quarters. "Feel free, of course, but if I were you, I'd hide it a little better."
"I'm not annoyed," Spike said grudgingly. It wasn't totally a lie, and it was made easier by the fact that he was hungry enough to have eaten six breakfasts. He shoveled a mouthful of egg and bacon into his mouth and chewed, sighing as the taste of it filled his senses.
Giles gave him a sidelong glance and let him eat in peace, making the occasional desultory comment about work and some odd jobs that needed doing around the house, but waiting until Spike had swallowed one last mouthful of coffee before turning the conversation back to their situation.
"You're shivering. I don't think you'd be very comfortable in jeans, but perhaps I should reconsider keeping you naked?" Giles reached out and ran his fingers across Spike's chest. "Not that I'm not enjoying looking at you, but if Xander comes back and finds you down with a cold, he won't be pleased with me."
"Not likely to be pleased with either of us regardless, is he?" Spike said. It wasn't something Giles would want to talk about, but he knew they both had to be thinking it.
"Probably not," Giles admitted, frowning slightly. He leaned back in his chair. "You're more bothered about Xander being angry with you than you are when it's me, aren't you?" he asked. "Why?" He sounded genuinely curious.
Spike looked down at the table as he answered. "Know that I can trust you to get mad enough to do something about it," he said. "Shout at me, tell me off. Shove me up against a wall." His eyes flicked up to meet Giles' for a second; he remembered the times that had happened. Always made him hard to think of it. "Xander... just gets hurt, doesn't he? Buries it all inside himself, figures out a way to make what I did about him whether it is or not."
He could see Giles thinking that over, taking longer than Spike had expected. "He's considerably more emotionally vulnerable than me, yes," Giles said eventually. "But this time, at least, it is all about him. Or do you think I didn't notice just why you picked that particular boy? Did you want a Xander you could control, instead of the other way around? Because if so, I'm not impressed by your powers of perception. Xander would do anything for you. Anything."
Spike shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, hoping Giles would think it was because he was cold. "Wouldn't take me with him," he muttered. "Wouldn't stay." He was being utterly unfair, and he knew it, but he couldn't help it.
"He's allowed to go away," Giles said reasonably. "And it's only for a weekend; I really don't see why you're so angry with him." Giles was sounding just a little put-out now. "I went to Paris for a week in October and you didn't react like this."
"You went for work, not to see friends," Spike said. It was a completely different thing; couldn't Giles see that? "Knew you were coming back, didn't I." Oh, fuck. He hadn't realized he was going to say that until he had. He looked at Giles in alarm. "Not that I don't trust him to come back; course I do."
"Oh, of course you do," Giles said. "You trust him so much that within hours of him leaving you're picking out an entirely inadequate replacement." Giles shoved his chair back and stood up, reaching for his plate with a hand that wasn't perfectly steady. "I don't suppose it occurred to you that if I thought there was the smallest chance that Xander wouldn't be returning I'd be in a worse state than you? Or do you think you're the only one who cares about him?"
"Never said I was being rational," Spike said. He wasn't stupid -- he knew where his fear of abandonment came from. He just didn't know what to do about it. Getting up, he took his own plate and things to the sink, setting them on the counter and taking Giles' from him. It didn't take long to load the dishwasher, after all, and he was warmer -- not to mention more distracted -- while he was moving. "Giles?" he said, while his back was turned.
"Yes, Spike?"
Spike swallowed, cleared his throat. "If he didn't... not saying that he won't, but if he didn't come back, would you still..." He couldn't say it. Made him sound like a berk, didn't it. Would you still love me?
"There are times when you verge on cryptic," Giles said crisply. "This would be one of them. Would I still what? Still love him? Miss him dreadfully? Yes, of course." Giles turned as Spike straightened up and closed the dishwasher door, his face going from puzzled to enlightened in less time than it took for Spike to take a quick, panicked breath. "Oh. You weren't talking about him, were you?"
Spike shook his head slowly, completely incapable of saying it. Saying anything.
"My feelings for you are -- not dependent on the three of us being together," Giles said quietly. "They wouldn't alter if Xander wasn't with us. Which isn't to say that I don't need him quite desperately at times, because I do." He stepped forward, close enough that Spike had to tilt his head back to still be able to hold his gaze. "I need you both. I love you both. I'll do anything it takes to keep us together because I think that goes for all of us. I have moments of worrying that I'm deluding myself on that score -- times when I think that you'd both manage very well without me -- but mostly I'm ... vain enough to think that without me you two would get torn apart by how much you care."
Giles sighed. "You're not the only one of us with insecurities, Spike. I'm just left wondering what shape Xander's take." He ran his hand over Spike's arm. "You're getting cold."
"Yeah," Spike said, moving in closer to Giles in the hopes he'd feel like touching something more than his arm.
Giles' hand moved down to caress Spike's hip, his thumb rubbing gently over the hollow of skin between it and Spike's stomach. "Positively freezing," Giles murmured. "Oh well, I did say you could put on a shirt, didn't I? I'm far too lenient with you, I know, but goose bumps don't suit you." He gave Spike a smile and reached around to swat his backside briskly, drawing a surprised yelp. "Off you go then."
Spike twitched away from Giles and did his best not to glare at him as he started out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.
"Wear something of Xander's!" Giles called to him.
"What?" Spike said, turning, not sure he'd heard right.
More loudly, Giles repeated, "Choose a shirt of Xander's to wear."
Spike wasn't sure he wanted to think too much about the reasons for that.