'Third Time Lucky' Final part. Faith/Giles/Wesley NC17

[janedavitt]

Taken all morning, but it's done...

Not going to make you blush, Bitca, but I hope you like it anyway :;much love:;

Thanks again to katekat1010 for the lovely icon ::hugs::

And Happy, Happy Birthday to bunnyohare and meko00! Hope the day is all you want it to be :;many hugs:;


Previous parts here




Third Time Lucky

Part Five


Faith stares at her hand and then prods the reddened, swollen palm. It's throbbing, beating in time with the pulse between her legs. She's slippery down there, messy and hot, but when she drags her hand through the sticky slickness, just for an instant her hand feels cooler. Then the heat from her cunt strikes up and her hand burns again, twice as hot.

She whimpers, and she's not sure why. Maybe it's the thrum from her clit after the heel of her hand rubs against it. Maybe it's the flare of lust, uncompromising and so very fucking serious in Wesley's eyes as he watches her bring her hand to her mouth and lick at it, short little flicks of her tongue as she tries to catch her breath and blow the skin cool, with her juices coating it, clinging and rich.

Maybe it's because, out of the corner of her eye, she can see Giles and what she's done to him.

With a soft moan, she twists around and runs her damp hand over the skin she's marked and bruised, bringing it to her mouth over and over, long, wet swipes of her tongue now, drawing her palm over Giles' ass and breathing on it.

She's hearing the sounds he makes but she's not listening, not while they're still sounds, not words. With a frantic moan that barely makes it past her lips, she puts both hands on him and bends over, kissing the hurt better, licking and blowing and kissing, and --

"Faith." Wesley's hands cover hers, brown against the pale skin of Giles' back, carefully avoiding the flushed, mottled-scarlet skin below. "He's all right."

She gazes at him. "No! I hurt him. I hurt him and I didn't mean to, I just --"

"Enjoyed it a little too much to stop?"

It's too laboured and hoarse to sound much like Giles, but it's words that aren't 'please' and 'Faith' and 'stop', panted out when he's too short of breath to cry them out and that's good enough for her.

"Giles! Fuck, Giles, I'm sorry --"

He rolls over, which has to hurt, but when she sees the state he's in, she knows why he's done it. He's hard, cock quivering and rigid, as messed-up and slicked-up as she is.

"It's fine, Faith," he says. "You didn't do more than I wanted you to, I promise." His gaze goes to Wesley. "Would you have stopped her?"

Wesley reaches out for Faith's hand and Faith feels his fingers stroke her palm and watches his cock -- as hard as Giles' -- jerk as he feels the rough, hot skin. "I don't know. Yes. If I'd thought it was too much for you."

"I thought you wanted it to be too much. Wanted to break me."

There's enough challenge there to wipe away Faith's guilt. Still Giles. She's glad about that. She's not sure what Wesley wants, not really, but she's not going to be the one who hurts either of them, not again.

Doesn't mean she didn't enjoy what she just did though, at least while she was doing it. Doesn't mean she's not thinking, just a little, what it would be like to have Wesley stretched out and there for her, waiting for her hand to come down and strike, again and again. She pictures him over Giles' knee, pictures him tied, long arms, long legs, spread-eagled and waiting, and swallows.

She'd feel guilty about her thoughts if she hadn't seen Wesley's face as she spanked Giles and seen how he'd got off on it, tongue passing over his parted lips, eyes wide, his hand dropping to his cock, fondling it absently as he watched, too lightly to do more than tease himself, smiling when Giles begged.

Wesley isn't always all that nice.

Giles and Faith don't give a fuck.

He's theirs.

"No," Wesley says softly. "I wanted to break you."

Giles arches an eyebrow, as if to ask how, and she sees the slight trace of panic flash over Wesley's face, banished when Giles glances down at his cock and then brings his hand to it, stroking his fingertips along it and shuddering. Wesley grabs his wrist and slams it against the bed. "I don't think so, Giles."

Faith sits back on her heels and lets Giles carry on orchestrating his own downfall without protest. Wesley might be able to get Giles so desperate to come that he's ready to beg -- and, yeah, now she thinks about it, it'd do him good, same as it does her good to have Wes and Giles beat her now and then when they train. Everyone needs to lose once in a while. Everyone needs to see life from that side of the fence and to admit that they're not always the strongest.

It's why she lets Giles punish her and it's why he let her do it to him.

Which is a good start, but not enough, so she hopes Wesley realises that Giles is still the one in charge and does something to change that, or Giles is going to fall asleep with a smug smile, not a happy one, and that won't do it for him or Wes.

"Wes?" she asks nudging him with her foot because he's staring at Giles like he can't see anything but Giles and it's pissing her off. "He's a Watcher. Make him watch."

He turns blind, blank eyes on her. "Watch what?"

She holds back a sigh, but the eye roll is involuntary. "Us, Wes, us."

It still takes one, two, three seconds to click and maybe she's still the best at torture because she just knows Wes hadn't thought past fucking Giles and stopping at the crucial moment, which would've been cutting off his own nose and all that shit.

This way Wes can come as much as he wants, and so can she, thank fucking Christ, and because Giles has shared a lot more with her in the darkness than his body, she knows just how to do this.

It's going to bring back one or two memories for Wes as well, but you know what, she's still mad as hell that they've been acting the way they have and she doesn't care.

Giles starts to struggle as his hands are pulled behind him and tied, really doesn't look happy as his ankles are lashed to the chair legs and when Faith straddles his lap and kisses him, wet and hot, with his cock pressed against her belly, he turns his face away.

Wesley's fingers thread through Giles' hair, mother-gentle, and then his hands clamp down and hold Giles' head in place so that Faith can kiss ruler-straight lips until they yield to her whispered words as much as the kisses, words that don't make much sense, because she's telling him it's going to be all right, and she's talking about a time that for Giles might as well be a hundred years away, because he wants to come now and he's not going to get to do that.

And the hard chair seat must be hell on his ass.

They put the chair at the end of the bed and they fuck while Giles watches them, unable to look away, although he tries. Faith couldn't not watch if it was Giles and Wes. Just couldn't. When they fuck, it's hard and sweaty and real and she's captivated, enraptured and caught.

It's no different for Giles.

She slides down on Wesley's cock, her back turned to him, leaning forward and slipping her hands down until they grip Wesley's ankles, giving him a nice view of her ass, and giving Giles a pouting, melting smile and a blown kiss. The chair's close enough to the end of the bed that she can see the throb of blood in Giles' cock, watch it darken and twitch as she moans and sits back, riding Wesley and feeling him slam up into her.

He stops and she lies back on his chest, kicking her legs out straight. It's awkward, and it's more by luck than anything else that Wesley's cock's still in her when she's settled, head turned for his kisses, Wesley's hand fumbling for her clit and finding it for a few moments before slipping down to trace around her hole, and what's filling it, spreading it.

Giles is staring at them, eyes angry, chest heaving up and down with quick, shallow breaths.

Silent.

But this isn't quite right still. It's three of them in this, after all, not two, and she wriggles off Wes and crawls to the bottom of the bed.

"What are you doing?" Wesley asks.

"Come here," she tells him. "We're leaving Giles out, and that's not fair."

Wesley joins her and they start to touch Giles, kissing him -- and it's Wesley who can't stop once he starts, who cups Giles' head in his hands, making guttural, hoarse sounds as he pushes his tongue deep, and if she didn't know better, she'd say it was Wesley who looks the most imploring, not Giles, who's kissing him back with surprising gentleness.

Faith's kisses her way down Giles' body, chest and arms, then gets off the bed and goes around to kneel behind the chair. Her fingers touch the clenched, bound fists until they slacken into curved hands again, with fingers she can lick and suck.

She gets a sound from Giles with that and smiles.

Back on the bed, after one long look at Wesley, who's just fucking going to town here, as if he's never had the chance to kiss Giles, which just isn't true, his hands all over him, his mouth open and hungry, she goes right for first prize.

Giles, over her protests that she's been doing this for years, has taught her a lot about sucking cock. Or maybe he's just shown her how he likes it, but Wesley never complains so perhaps there's a universally approved way or something.

The state he's in now, she could have a mouthful of come in about thirty seconds if she went all out, but that's not the plan. So while Wesley's being about as subtle as a smack in the face, she takes her time, although it's killing her because she loves feeling their cocks fill her, mouth or cunt, and Giles smells good, dammit, smells sexy, and she wants to taste him and swallow around him and instead she's working her way around the head of his cock, little pointed-tongue licks, hummingbird fast, cleaning him up and getting nowhere, because the more she does it, the wetter he gets.

He's not the only one.

She turns her head and sees, with a gasp of outrage, that Wesley's got one hand on his dick and is this close to coming, the tip of his cock bumping and rubbing over Giles' stomach.

"No fucking way, Wes," she hisses, tugging on his shoulder. "Not like that."

He tears his mouth off Giles' and they both look at her as if they've forgotten how to speak and are astonished that she can.

"Going to let you take a rest now, Giles," she says. "Back to watching ..."

She grabs a pillow and places it at the end of the bed, level with Giles' spread knees. Then she lies down with her head on it and Wesley straddles her, bracing his hands on Giles' shoulders, and his cock pushes into her waiting mouth. Must be quite a view for Giles, but as Wesley's fucking back to kissing him again, he's missing it.

She takes a certain pleasure in biting down on Wesley's cock -- not hard, not really -- and reaching over her head to grab at Giles', the angle too awkward for her to do much more than brush over his balls, but enough to remind them that she's there.

And Wes finally gets to talking, intense and low, making Giles answer him, making him talk.

"Do you wish you were free, Giles? Wish it was your cock fucking Faith's mouth, your hands on me?"

"Yes," Giles says. "You know I do."

"Tell us," Wesley demands. "Tell us that you want us."

His cock slips free of Faith's mouth and he slides down and starts to fuck Faith as if he can't help it, panting and flushed, his eyes closed, each thrust sparking shivers and chills because she's so fucking close...

"How can you not know it?" Giles says tensely. "How can you kiss me and live with me and fuck me and spend hour after hour with me and not know that I love you both? What the hell am I doing wrong that you have to ask, that we're doing this?"

Wesley stops and shakes his head. "I don't know," he admits, sounding defeated as he moves off Faith. "I just know that it's not enough. I don't --"

"Will you make me fucking come and then talk?" Faith screams. Her body's aching and jangling with frustration. "Fuck, Wes..."

"Poor Faith," Giles says without an ounce of sarcasm and she wants to sob with gratitude, because Giles knows her, knows she's not good at waiting and if self-denial had a face, she's punch it bloody. "Wesley's holding back -- and making you suffer terribly -- because he wants to fuck me, don't you, Wesley? And although I'm sure he's quite capable of coming twice, he's not sure how long he can keep me like this."

There's a trace of amusement in Giles' voice as he goads Wesley and it has Faith's eyes narrowing. He's supposed to be all on edge and he's the calmest of them all.

She scrambles up and stands with her legs spread wide, brushing his face with her tits until he gets the message and begins to suck at a nipple, teasing it with his teeth. She wraps her hand around his cock and lowers herself onto it slowly, inch by fucking inch.

Slayer. Leg muscles to die for. She could take ten minutes doing this and she wouldn't even be trembling at the end, but she's a Slayer who's in a hurry, so as Giles gasps and her tit slips free of his mouth, she slams down on his waiting cock, riding him hard, taking what she needs and feeling Wesley's hands on her as she does it, warm on her back and then sliding between her legs to the pooled wetness there.

His slick finger jabs up into her ass and she comes, crying out and sobbing, hearing them whisper her name, feeling her body shake and clutch and shatter.

She collapses against Giles and she's not sure what she's saying but Wesley moves to untie Giles and he's still hard inside her, but she doesn't care about that; she just wants his arms around her and she gets that the instant that he's free.

"Shh, Faith, shh." Giles sounds a little concerned and he's trying to push her back so that he can see her face.

She shakes her head and squirms closer to Giles, breathing in his scent, the tickle of hair on his chest familiar and as reassuring as the steady thump of his heart.

"Faith, you need to let us --"

Wesley sounds apologetic and she's dimly surprised at that because Wesley never says sorry and makes it sound good.

Then Giles makes this soft, needy sound and she remembers how she felt a few minutes ago and sighs, turning to kiss Wesley who's white-faced and looking as far from being together-guy as you can get.

She doesn't know what she expects when they fuck. Not for it to take long, not after all this build-up. Not for it to be anything like the miracle Wes seems to think that it will be.

And maybe it isn't, but it's close enough. Giles moves to the bed and kneels on it, looking at Wesley and waiting. There's no patience in his eyes, and that's not what Wesley needs anyway. He needs want and desperation and love and that's pouring off Giles now.

Faith gets the lube and tosses it to Wesley who catches it deftly and does what needs to be done to himself, biting down on his lip.

"Please, Wesley," Giles says, and there's nothing fake about it. "Fuck me? Please?"

Wesley puts his arms around Giles and kisses him again, pushing him back without breaking the kiss, slicking him up and still not stopping, his mouth on Giles' the whole time. By the time he's inside Giles, fucking him with slow, steady strokes, Faith's crying and she's not the only one.

Giles comes, his hand stretched out, groping for Faith's. She gives him the one that's still throbbing and hangs on as his climax robs him of speech and sense of self.

Then they watch Wesley come and hold him and kiss him and tell him that they love him.

And just as they're falling asleep, with Wesley between them, Giles reaches across and takes Faith's hand.

"Going to tell me now?" she whispers, in the last moments before sleep takes her.

"Again?" he asks and that doesn't make sense, because he's never told her. She'd have remembered. "Oh, very well. I love you, Faith."

Wesley mumbles something and his arm tightens around her.

It feels different sleeping on the edge of the bed but Faith doesn't mind.

It's safer this way.