'Third Time Lucky' Part Four Faith/Giles/Wesley

[janedavitt]

This is, I think, the penultimate part. Bitca, the smutfest is in the next one ;-)

Previous parts here




Third Time Lucky

Part Four


This time Wesley isn't struggling and Giles' arms tighten around him, returning a kiss that tastes of desperation and trying, through a haze of fatigue, to work out what to say. In the end he settles for, "I wish you'd tell me what you want. I'd give it to you, you know. If I could. I don't like seeing you like this, Wesley."

"I want -- to not have to say it."

"I'm afraid you have to."

It's the voice Giles uses when Faith's pouting, and not just because she knows how very pretty she looks when she does it. It's inflexible, stern, and a little cold, and he supposes it works because he genuinely feels annoyed with her when she's like that. He's not precisely annoyed with Wesley but he does wish that the man would stop fighting an enemy that's lying dead at his feet.

Wesley's silent, his breath uneven and his fingers curled around Giles' in a painful grip. With him this close, Giles can't pretend he doesn't know how terrified Wesley is and it makes his resolve falter.

"Right. Let me guess then, and please do stop me if I get it right."

There's a faint smile on Wesley's face as he murmurs, "Twenty questions?" He shifts a little against Giles. "Put out the light?"

It's not until Giles' hand is on the switch of the lamp beside them that he remembers where he knows those words from.

"'Put out the light, and then put out the light'," he quotes slowly. "Othello before he kills Desdemona for being unfaithful, as he thinks."

Wesley shakes his head at once. "I'm not jealous of you, or her, if that's what you mean."

"Really? I am of you, a little," Giles says evenly. "You know Faith better than I ever will. You've seen her at her best and at her worst. You compel those extremes in her and I'm -- left feeling rather like bread and butter. Boring and bland."

There's a startled jerk and Wesley's face, vague in the near-darkness of the room, turns to him. "You really can't expect me to believe that."

"It's late, it's dark and I'm too tired to lie," Giles says, yawning just to prove it. "And too old to care much that you look better in leather and stubble than I ever will again. I said I was a little jealous, that's all. I can live with it." He draws his hand down the side of Wesley's face, finding the line where smooth skin ends and enjoying the scuff of roughness against his fingertips. "You can't want my job," he says thoughtfully. "It's yours already. On the Council payroll we're listed as equals and our salary, such as it is, is identical. I have no more authority than you but you do seem to feel that I have and act accordingly. There's really no need, you know. We went through the same training; you've probably killed more demons than I have by now, and you know Faith well enough to deal with her no matter how temperamental she gets."

"She listens to you," Wesley says ruefully. "She fights me. Every step of the way."

"She enjoys it and so do you," Giles says peaceably, trying to stop his eyes from closing. Holding Wesley like this is astonishingly relaxing given what they're discussing. He slips his hand behind Wesley's neck and kisses him dreamily, drowsily, just because he's there. "God, I love you," he says suddenly, not caring that he'd promised he wouldn't say that to either of them because it wasn't fair. "Wesley, this isn't going to last long; we both know that. When Faith -- well, I can't see what we have surviving her death. We'll be too busy blaming ourselves and each other to --"

"Morbid, much?" Wesley asks dryly.

Giles pokes him peevishly in the ribs. "Speak English."

Wesley chuckles. "You know what I mean. Why am I suddenly the optimistic one?" He leans his forehead against Giles'. "You can't say you love me and in the same breath tell me you'll be a distant dot on the horizon at a time when we'll need each other most. The two don't go together."

"Why would you want to be with me when Faith isn't around?" Giles asks.

"Because I --" Wesley pauses and moves back a little. "Even in the dark this isn't easy to say."

"Englishmen shouldn't fall in love," Giles says moodily. "We're hopeless at articulating it."

Wesley goes very still. "You think that I'm in love with you?" he asked. "I'm not -- I didn't say that!"

"You haven't said that you're not," Giles points out, refusing to let himself feel hurt. "And your actions do tend to indicate it, but if I'm mistaken then I do apologise."

"I don't know what I am," Wesley says. "Besides unhappy."

"We're back where we started," Giles says. "Why are you unhappy? Tell me one thing -- anything -- that's making you feel that way. It doesn't have to be deeply significant. Just -- tell me."

"You squeeze the toothpaste from the middle."

"I do? Well, I don't think that I can stop something that ingrained, but I'm sure the household budget could stretch to separate tubes of toothpaste. Another one?"

Wesley takes a shallow breath. "I want -- I need to fuck you, Giles. It's not part of some power struggle between us, it's not to prove a point. I just want to."

"Then why haven't you?" Giles asks him gently. "I've given you plenty of chances, but you never seemed --"

"I don't want to be given anything!" Wesley snaps, his hands coming up to rest, hot and shaking against Giles' face. "I just want to fuck you, Giles. I want you there, mine, I want to feel you come the way I feel Faith. I want to bloody well fuck you until you stop --"

"Stop what?" Giles asks when Wesley's voice trails away. "Wesley --"

"Stop being so in control," Wesley whispers. "I want to break you, Giles. I want to see you lost and unsure, I want to hear you beg and I want to see you cry."

"You don't have to fuck me to get that," Giles whispers back. "Just tell me you're leaving and you'll see me broken."

Wesley shakes his head, his hands heavy on Giles' shoulders. "I haven't finished," he says. "I want to do that to you because then we'll be equal. Then we'll be the same. Faith knows. She's done it. You're too strong. Too fucking strong and I love you, yes, you're right, I do, but I love her more because I've seen her break and I'm not sure you can."

"You really don't know me, do you?" Giles says wonderingly. "Not break? Strong and in control? You see me like that and you're seeing what you want to see, not the truth. I do what I have to but don't ever think it's easy. And don't ever think you and Faith aren't equally capable of that, because you are." He feels indignation rise. "You want to fuck me? Fuck me. Get off my bloody knee, take me into our bedroom, tell Faith to stop sulking and move over and then do whatever the hell you want to do to me." He smacks his hand against Wesley's chest, rocking him back. "Just don't dress it up in melodrama and don't make more of it than it is."

Wesley gets up, leaving Giles shivering with the loss of his warmth until Wesley's hand slips into his and pulls him up into a kiss. Wesley's mouth is hard against his and Giles doesn't hold back his response to that, which is why, when they step apart, breathing heavily and head towards their room, Wesley's tongue is licking his lower lip reflexively to soothe the sting.

Faith's awake and the air feels disturbed somehow as if someone's run through it recently. Giles knows damn well she was listening at the door and wonders how much she heard.

"Told you two to get the hell out," she says, snapping on the bedside light and glaring at them.

"And we did," Wesley says, peeling his T-shirt off. "Weren't we good? Now we're back."

Faith transfers her narrow-eyed stare to Giles who shrugs and follows Wesley's example and begins to undress. "It's proving difficult to sleep apart, Faith, and not particularly useful either."

"Bed feels big," she admits. Her glare intensifies. "You going to tell me you love me any time soon?" she asks Giles. Her head turns. "And what about you? Want to fuck my ass, too, Wes?"

Wesley smiles. "I'd love to," he says with more composure than Giles is feeling. "But you'll have to wait your turn."

She nods, looking thoughtful. "Yeah. You want to do Giles first. I get that." She tilts her head and grins at them both. "Want his ass rare, medium, or well-done?"

"I'm sorry?" Giles says, feeling a stirring of unease. "I don't quite understand --"

"Yeah, you do, Giles. We're teaming up to make you whimper. Sounds like a plan to me." She studies her hand. "Ever been spanked by a woman, Giles?"

"Once. It tickled," he says, wishing he wasn't naked because with his cock jerking to attention at her words it really doesn't matter how calmly defiant he sounds; he's fooling no one.

Faith wriggles out of the sheets and kneels on the bed, spreading her thighs. She's quite clearly wet. "I haven't forgotten what you did to me that time I tickled you, Giles. No tickling. Swear." She brings her hands together with a sharp crack and Wesley's breath catches on a groan that tells Giles he's on Faith's side, as if there was ever any doubt. "Just whimpering."

It's not easy. However much he might want this -- and he wants them together again enough that he'd do this even if he didn't -- it's not easy to walk to the bed with some attempt at dignity and lie down on his stomach, legs apart slightly and his face burning.

"Going to tell me before I start?" Faith asks.

"No," Giles says, folding his arms and burying his head in them. The bed creaks as Wesley joins them and he flinches as Wesley's hand trails down his back and comes to rest, warmly possessive against his backside. He can't help tensing, just a little.

"Move your hand, Wes," Faith says.

Giles rolls to his back and stares up at them both. "Before you start --"

"Yeah, Giles," Faith says softly, leaning down. "No problem. And we'll kiss it better afterwards, too."

Her lips are gentle against his and her hair falls across his face as she turns to kiss Wesley.