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Giles/Spike, my own kink fic, written in the last hour so usual disclaimers. Bondage, riding crops and such. Set in the early days of this fic but not early enough to reveal what's going on. Not yet. This is to get me posting again; it's not brilliant but at least it's out there.
Giles doesn’t go in for the fancy stuff. Cuffs, yes, because I’ve got the strength of ten and it doesn’t take a fucking pure heart to give it to me either. The lube’s plain; no flavours, no scent, doesn’t glow in the dark or play a tune when you flip the lid. And if his hand gets sore, there’s plenty of wooden spoons in the kitchen and he swears that crop was bought with horses in mind and he’s had it for years. No toys.
I believe him, and if I didn’t I wouldn’t dream of being so stupid as to call him a liar. Well...unless I was bored of course. Boredom makes you do funny things, you know. I think Giles caught on to that pretty early on in our...well, now, what shall we call it? Relationship? Not exactly. Arrangement? Sounds so cold, don’t you think? Whatever.
So. Early days. Right... I was knackered; been up half the night while Giles took his own sweet time about coming and wouldn’t let me until he had. He cursed when the alarm went off, but he could have managed to leave the house more or less on time if I’d let him. The less was my fault and if he’d been in control the night before, he made up for it that morning. We hadn’t – quite – worked out what we were doing but I think that day got us on track. I was tired, yes, but when he came back into the bedroom to get dressed, stark naked and minty fresh, he looked too good to waste on Anya. No, not like that. God, make me sick, why don’t you?
So I grabbed him when he walked by and tried to pull him back to bed. He wanted to; trust me, he did, I could tell...but he started going on about opening hours, deliveries...time he spent yapping, I could’ve had him half way down my throat. Fucking waste. After I got bored of arguing, I rolled back and started to do the job myself. What? I was hard, he wasn’t doing anything about it; what did he expect?
“- you to have a little more self control and a lot less –”
“Oh God, Giles. Fuck off to your shop, you boring git. Spend the day picturing me doing this –” slow, gentle stroke for effect, “and if it gets you hard, stay behind the counter.”
Can’t imagine what he’d do if I spoke like that now, but I wouldn’t, you see. Tamed? No. Not in me. But...different. Yes.
I was watching him when I said that. Wanted to see what he’d do. Fuck me? Hit me? Stalk off in a snit?
This is Giles. He...he looked at me. Stood there, still hard, still naked, folded his arms and _looked_ at me. God, if anything was needed to get me harder it was Giles with the still face and the cool, angry eyes. He looked fucking unpredictable and that was just perfect. I wanted to shake him up, jolt him. Oh, I did that all right.
“You have a choice, Spike. Or, I should say, you had one. Remember making it? No, don’t speak, I think you’ve said enough. A nod will suffice.” Gave it him, curious and so fucking _hard_. “I see I’ve been at fault. Been too willing to overlook your...lapses because –” and I’ve never seen him smile like that, never even knew he could. Picture me with a neck to bite - hungry and happy and fucking scary. That was Giles smiling. “Fucking you is so delightful a distraction that I became...indulgent. I do apologise. This isn’t achieving what we want at all, is it now?”
I opened my mouth and he slashed his hand across my face, hard enough to jerk my head sideways, then laid one finger across my lips. “I’m not minded to let you talk, Spike. In fact, until I release you, I want silence. Anything that sounds like a word in any language I know and I’ll be most annoyed.” Started to try and think of the demon languages he was likely to be fluent in and gave up.
“Rules. I didn’t want to bother with anything set down in stone; so tiresome. In fact, I don’t think we will. The rules are simple, Spike, so simple even you shouldn’t have any trouble grasping them. You do what I say. You obey. You endure. You serve me. You make me happy.”
He knelt by the bed, wrapped his hand around me and I moaned, thrusting up into his fist.
“Was that a word, Spike?” He frowned at me. Bugger knew it wasn’t. I shook my head, saw that smile again. “Oh, I’m fairly certain I recognised it. Possibly the Kratchian for, ‘I’m very sorry, Giles for being so disrespectful, importunate and forward’?” Uh, yes, fair enough. If that’s what he wanted. I nodded eagerly, hoping it would get his hand moving because those warm fingers were driving me fucking nuts. I knew what they could do and they weren’t doing it.
His eyes widened. “So it _was_ a word? Oh, dear, Spike. If you’re having trouble remembering an order I gave you just a minute ago...”
Oh, bollocks.
Cuffs, crop, my backside. Giles seemed to think they went well together. Six strokes, just to be traditional, just enough to show me he wasn’t messing around. Didn’t make a fuss, didn’t fuck about with timing it, making it drag on. Course not; he was late, wasn’t he? Just slashed it down against my arse, waited long enough to see the mark rise up against my skin, ran one finger down it thoughtfully and then briskly set to making it a nice, round number.
He’d done this before. No hesitation on the first stroke, no wild flailing around on the others. Precise, careful and neat. And bloody painful, even if the marks would be gone long before he got home.
“I think you need time to reflect, Spike,” he said kindly. Oh, that just took the biscuit; feeding me straight lines like that when I was under a vow of fucking silence. “I’ll try to pop back at lunchtime.” ‘Try’? What did he mean, ‘try’? “Hopefully, you’ll be clear on matters by then.” He put his hand on my hip and rolled me onto my side. It hurt because it tugged on my cuffed wrists but I wasn’t complaining because he stroked my cock with the tips of his fingers; once, twice...
“So want to fuck you, Spike,” he murmured. “Not sure you’d stay quiet though and I don’t want to have to punish you twice in one day.” Eyes can be eloquent but he wasn’t looking at my face, unfortunately.
He stood up, let me roll back onto my stomach and gave my arse a brisk pat. “See you later, Spike. Oh...and if you come while I’m away, it’ll be the last time you do all week, so make sure you enjoy it.”
He twitched at the curtains to make sure they were shut, got dressed and left.
He came back at lunchtime. To come. I had to wait until after hours and he took me back to the shop with him to make sure I did. No, he didn’t trust me. Giles knew me then, knows me now.
But he was deep in me before the bell had stopped jangling behind the last customer...and the next morning, he set the alarm early.
Giles doesn’t go in for the fancy stuff. Cuffs, yes, because I’ve got the strength of ten and it doesn’t take a fucking pure heart to give it to me either. The lube’s plain; no flavours, no scent, doesn’t glow in the dark or play a tune when you flip the lid. And if his hand gets sore, there’s plenty of wooden spoons in the kitchen and he swears that crop was bought with horses in mind and he’s had it for years. No toys.
I believe him, and if I didn’t I wouldn’t dream of being so stupid as to call him a liar. Well...unless I was bored of course. Boredom makes you do funny things, you know. I think Giles caught on to that pretty early on in our...well, now, what shall we call it? Relationship? Not exactly. Arrangement? Sounds so cold, don’t you think? Whatever.
So. Early days. Right... I was knackered; been up half the night while Giles took his own sweet time about coming and wouldn’t let me until he had. He cursed when the alarm went off, but he could have managed to leave the house more or less on time if I’d let him. The less was my fault and if he’d been in control the night before, he made up for it that morning. We hadn’t – quite – worked out what we were doing but I think that day got us on track. I was tired, yes, but when he came back into the bedroom to get dressed, stark naked and minty fresh, he looked too good to waste on Anya. No, not like that. God, make me sick, why don’t you?
So I grabbed him when he walked by and tried to pull him back to bed. He wanted to; trust me, he did, I could tell...but he started going on about opening hours, deliveries...time he spent yapping, I could’ve had him half way down my throat. Fucking waste. After I got bored of arguing, I rolled back and started to do the job myself. What? I was hard, he wasn’t doing anything about it; what did he expect?
“- you to have a little more self control and a lot less –”
“Oh God, Giles. Fuck off to your shop, you boring git. Spend the day picturing me doing this –” slow, gentle stroke for effect, “and if it gets you hard, stay behind the counter.”
Can’t imagine what he’d do if I spoke like that now, but I wouldn’t, you see. Tamed? No. Not in me. But...different. Yes.
I was watching him when I said that. Wanted to see what he’d do. Fuck me? Hit me? Stalk off in a snit?
This is Giles. He...he looked at me. Stood there, still hard, still naked, folded his arms and _looked_ at me. God, if anything was needed to get me harder it was Giles with the still face and the cool, angry eyes. He looked fucking unpredictable and that was just perfect. I wanted to shake him up, jolt him. Oh, I did that all right.
“You have a choice, Spike. Or, I should say, you had one. Remember making it? No, don’t speak, I think you’ve said enough. A nod will suffice.” Gave it him, curious and so fucking _hard_. “I see I’ve been at fault. Been too willing to overlook your...lapses because –” and I’ve never seen him smile like that, never even knew he could. Picture me with a neck to bite - hungry and happy and fucking scary. That was Giles smiling. “Fucking you is so delightful a distraction that I became...indulgent. I do apologise. This isn’t achieving what we want at all, is it now?”
I opened my mouth and he slashed his hand across my face, hard enough to jerk my head sideways, then laid one finger across my lips. “I’m not minded to let you talk, Spike. In fact, until I release you, I want silence. Anything that sounds like a word in any language I know and I’ll be most annoyed.” Started to try and think of the demon languages he was likely to be fluent in and gave up.
“Rules. I didn’t want to bother with anything set down in stone; so tiresome. In fact, I don’t think we will. The rules are simple, Spike, so simple even you shouldn’t have any trouble grasping them. You do what I say. You obey. You endure. You serve me. You make me happy.”
He knelt by the bed, wrapped his hand around me and I moaned, thrusting up into his fist.
“Was that a word, Spike?” He frowned at me. Bugger knew it wasn’t. I shook my head, saw that smile again. “Oh, I’m fairly certain I recognised it. Possibly the Kratchian for, ‘I’m very sorry, Giles for being so disrespectful, importunate and forward’?” Uh, yes, fair enough. If that’s what he wanted. I nodded eagerly, hoping it would get his hand moving because those warm fingers were driving me fucking nuts. I knew what they could do and they weren’t doing it.
His eyes widened. “So it _was_ a word? Oh, dear, Spike. If you’re having trouble remembering an order I gave you just a minute ago...”
Oh, bollocks.
Cuffs, crop, my backside. Giles seemed to think they went well together. Six strokes, just to be traditional, just enough to show me he wasn’t messing around. Didn’t make a fuss, didn’t fuck about with timing it, making it drag on. Course not; he was late, wasn’t he? Just slashed it down against my arse, waited long enough to see the mark rise up against my skin, ran one finger down it thoughtfully and then briskly set to making it a nice, round number.
He’d done this before. No hesitation on the first stroke, no wild flailing around on the others. Precise, careful and neat. And bloody painful, even if the marks would be gone long before he got home.
“I think you need time to reflect, Spike,” he said kindly. Oh, that just took the biscuit; feeding me straight lines like that when I was under a vow of fucking silence. “I’ll try to pop back at lunchtime.” ‘Try’? What did he mean, ‘try’? “Hopefully, you’ll be clear on matters by then.” He put his hand on my hip and rolled me onto my side. It hurt because it tugged on my cuffed wrists but I wasn’t complaining because he stroked my cock with the tips of his fingers; once, twice...
“So want to fuck you, Spike,” he murmured. “Not sure you’d stay quiet though and I don’t want to have to punish you twice in one day.” Eyes can be eloquent but he wasn’t looking at my face, unfortunately.
He stood up, let me roll back onto my stomach and gave my arse a brisk pat. “See you later, Spike. Oh...and if you come while I’m away, it’ll be the last time you do all week, so make sure you enjoy it.”
He twitched at the curtains to make sure they were shut, got dressed and left.
He came back at lunchtime. To come. I had to wait until after hours and he took me back to the shop with him to make sure I did. No, he didn’t trust me. Giles knew me then, knows me now.
But he was deep in me before the bell had stopped jangling behind the last customer...and the next morning, he set the alarm early.