Behind Closed Doors Part Ten Giles/Spike NC 17

[janedavitt]

Part Ten

I wanted to go off, get drunk, and kill things. Traditional but effective. Didn’t. My head still hurt, but that wasn’t why I was leaning against a wall, far enough away not to hear more than a low murmur of voices, close enough that if Giles needed me, I’d know. Didn’t want to listen – it was why I’d gone out. The way they felt about the Slayer dying was between them. They were her friends. I’d never really been that.

Still hurt not having her around but it wasn’t as bad as it had been. You get used to people dying when you’re a vampire, and not just because most often you’re the one killing them. Giles and I didn’t talk about her, not much, but when we did it was getting to the point where her name didn’t bring that little silence after it. Good enough, I’d thought. Looks as if I was wrong.

One other thing kept me there. Giles hadn’t said I could leave the house; if I went any further away he’d – God, I hoped he would. Giles not caring if I left wasn’t something I could handle.

Must have been an hour later when the door opened and Harris came out. I stayed well back in the shadows, but when he pulled the door closed behind him and I didn’t see Giles, I didn’t know what to do. He looked around and said my name, as if he knew I’d be around, staring at me when I walked over to him. He looked tired but he looked happier too.

“Spike? Are you O.K?”

Nodded. Didn’t hate him but I didn’t want to talk either.

“Think Giles might want a bit of space so – do you want to go for a drink? Shoot some pool? Not talk about anything?”

He sounded as if he meant it, which stopped me telling him to fuck off, but I still didn’t want to go.

“Another time, right?” I glanced at the house. Light was still on but it was quiet. “Giles – look, I have to go to him.”

“I really don’t know if that’s a good idea –”

I’d had enough. “I don’t give a fuck what you think, Harris! I need him.”

Got this weird look. “You do, don’t you?” he said, all quiet.

“Yeah. I do.” I stepped away and then hesitated. “Look – if you’re right, I’ll catch up with you, yeah? Walk slow.”

He glanced over at me. “I’ll do that.”

Waited for him to go and then went inside. Didn’t knock; I lived there. Giles was in the kitchen, messing about with pots and pans, getting himself something to eat.

How very fucking domestic of him. I’d been going to cook something for him; nothing fancy but I can manage steak and oven chips and a tin of those mushy peas he gets from the little shop with the dusty stacks of imported food from all over the world. Now it smelled as if he was doing one of those cast of thousands meals, with a pinch of this and a dash of that; the ones that take hours to prepare and leave every surface piled high with dishes.

I crossed over to the hatch and leaned on my elbows watching him. Busy hands chopping away, head bent slightly, nape of his neck looking tanned against the stiff white collar of his work shirt. He’d rolled up his sleeves and the contrast between crisp cotton and strong, bare skin made me want him. Just that. Such a small thing to have me aching for him.

Made me realise how many hours I spent watching him that I could tell how tense he was from the line and curve of his back. Did he know me as well? I thought he did – but he wasn’t turning to me, wasn’t talking and he should have known this was killing me.

I opened my mouth, ran through half a dozen sentences and couldn’t come up with one that would get those arms around me, those restless hands stilled as they clutched sheets, my hair, whatever he wanted to hang on to while I stripped the clothes from his body and the hurt from his eyes. Could have just said his name, made it a question, but that felt like cheating; it’d mean he had to come up with the first words, and for all I knew, he was having as much trouble with that as I was.

Fuck. I was lost. Usually I know, you see. Know what’ll work, when to make him angry, when to step carefully...now I didn’t. If I went up, slipped my arms around him, kissed him – would he step back, face cold and closed? Would he push me away from him?

I stood there, while the mountain of chopped pepper grew; precise, thin strips of red, and felt the weight of the silence push back every word that made it to my mouth, make it impossible to move anywhere.

He ran out of something to slash into little pieces and laid the knife down with a careful slowness that was scary.

He didn’t look at me. “Spike. When I turn around I don’t want to see you. Go upstairs, strip, lie face down on the bed. Pick a comfortable position as you’re going to be there quite some time. Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t touch yourself.”

Started to say something and he cut me off. “You’ve said quite enough for one evening, Spike. Go.”

I went, did everything he’d told me to do and was hard before I’d finished undressing. I hoped he didn’t keep me waiting for long, but I wasn’t counting on it, not when he’d had that edge to his voice. With nothing to do but think as Giles cooked, ate, cleaned up, I still couldn’t work out what had got him this pissed off. In the end I drifted off to sleep, I suppose, because I didn’t hear him come in and I don’t know how long he spent watching me before he raised his arm and brought the crop down with a force he’d never used before.

“Wake up, Spike.”

I was awake. I think the hiss as it swept through the air woke me. If not that, the blow itself, meeting my skin with a flat emphasis, an uncompromising stroke that bit and burrowed deep enough to crack open my skin, splitting it and leaving scarlet behind when it rose back into the air to hover for a moment, as though waiting to see if I’d got the message. I felt the blood rise up and swell and spread, felt the pain hesitate and then explode and felt tears sting my eyes.

Because it hurt and Giles had never hurt me before. Not like this.

My fingers curled and I felt my body stiffen in shock and then I was moving, curling up, as instinctive a reaction as any animal in pain. If I’d been awake, if I’d had some warning, I could have held position but there was no fucking way I could lie still under that, not unbound.

I was making noises, soft little moans of pain and I couldn’t seem to stop them. I rolled over and squinted up through wetness to see Giles staring at me. He looked ... I don’t know. Not angry any more. He threw the crop aside and sat down by me, pulling me close and hugging me hard. I let him, feeling the shock and the pain fade enough for me to be silent. Ended up with him stripping down and coming back to lie beside me, him on his back and me sprawled across him, head tucked in under his chin with one arm wrapped around me and the other stroking my back.

I felt as if every bone in my body had splintered, sharp, jagged edges driving into my skin from within. It wasn’t the pain; one stroke, some blood, yes, it hurt, but I could endure far worse. It was Giles doing that, going beyond what I thought he was capable of. Being cruel. Expected that from some people. Not from him. I couldn’t speak; he hadn’t said I could, and even though I’d moved without permission and he didn’t seem to mind, I wasn’t going to risk talking. So I lay there while he touched me, soothed me and stopped me shivering.

He spoke after a while, his voice low and calm. “Are you –?”

“I’m fine, Giles. Except, no I’m fucking not. What was that for? I don’t get it.”

His arm tightened around me. “Don’t you? How did it make you feel that I’d do that?”

Thought about it. One word came to mind and as much as I tried to find an alternative, I couldn’t, not if I was going to be honest with him. And I was. You didn’t lie to Giles when he was like this. Didn’t lie to him ever, because he always knew.

“Betrayed.” That seemed too bare, too stark. Found myself babbling. “You didn’t, you didn’t warn me. Didn’t let me get ready. Meant I moved and you’d said not to. Hurt too, but not just my arse.”

I stopped then because he was nodding, his face moving against my hair. “Yes. Exactly. That’s just what I wanted you to feel. Good, Spike. You got that much at least.”

I tried to sit up so I could see him, but he wouldn’t let me. “Why did you want that?”

“Because it’s how I felt when I walked in and heard you discussing our relationship with Xander.” Felt bewildered, tried to remember... “You said, and this might not be exact, ‘You don’t know him. You don’t know what he needs and if you did you wouldn’t want to give it to him and you couldn’t take what –’ and then I stopped you, but it was a little late.”

“That’s it?” I said, starting to feel angry. “He was hassling me, saying I wasn’t helping, that’s all.”

“Yes, and after we’d finished discussing Buffy – and thank you for leaving us alone; that saved you getting that stroke as soon as you came back in, and believe me, the way I felt, it would have been one of several –”

“Bloody glad I went, then,” I muttered.

He chuckled. “After that, I had to endure an increasingly intrusive series of questions from Xander. He wanted to know what, beyond the obvious, you could do that he couldn’t or wouldn’t. I think his imagination provided him with some rather lurid scenarios, not limited to the idea that I was letting you feed from me, as Riley did with that female vampire. I half expected him to make me strip so he could check me for bite marks.”

I snorted with laughter and couldn’t stop. Guess he might have found one or two marks at that. Giles cuffed me across the head but not hard. “That’s quite enough of that. It got ...embarrassing.”

“I can imagine. Only thing is, I don’t think it was what I said that set him off.”

Giles pushed me away so that he could see my face. “What? What d’you mean?”

I poked his shoulder with an accusing finger. “Who sent Anya up here to get that book on binding spells you’d left on the bedside table? You did. Who –”

“You mean she took advantage and pried into drawers –”

He sounded shocked. Sweet but stupid sometimes. “She probably would have but she didn’t bloody need to, did she? You’d left the cuffs attached to the bed and she brought the wooden spoon you’d used on me back down with her and put it into the kitchen. Bet Xander got an earful as soon as they got home. Look she gave me, he might have got more than that; not one to mind experimenting, is Anya. You might have put ideas in her head.”

Giles stared at me open mouthed. Rare sight that and I don’t mind saying I loved every second of it.

“So, got something you’d like to say to me?”

His eyes narrowed. “Spike, if I am marginally to blame for tonight’s interrogation –”

“Take it like a man, Giles. Totally to blame.”

His breath hissed out in an aggravated way and I wondered if I’d gloated a bit too much for safety. Tried the innocent smile, but couldn’t resist adding, “Tell you what; kiss my backside better and we’ll call it quits.”

His mouth thinned and then I watched the corners quirk up in a reluctant smile. Thought about that mouth on me and shivered happily. Truthfully, there wasn’t much of me he hadn’t kissed or licked. I remembered one spanking when he’d let the final slap fall, placed his palms, one cool, one scorching, on either cheek and pulled them apart, before running his tongue over every bit of reddened skin his hands didn’t mask. Then it had wandered and darted inside me, teasing little prods that had me begging and squirming until his fingers and cock took its place.

I’d come in that mouth, too, though never fucked it; standing or lying down, while Giles took me as deeply as he wanted or made me come without ever letting me inside until the last moment, using tongue and teeth and fingers while I waited, hands by my side, hips longing to thrust and snap.

All that...and it had all been his choice. The image of him doing anything to me because I’d told him to, made my cock harden until it was aching and wet and he knew it.

“You want recompense? A quid pro quo?” He paused. “You can’t hit me, of course.” Not just because of the chip either, though that was what he meant, I think.

“Wouldn’t want to.”

“Really? Why is that?”

He sounded curious. “Don’t want to hurt you. Like to make you beg, though.”

“Do you ever wonder why I like to do both?”

“Dunno. Did Xander?”

He bit my shoulder for that, but I could feel him laughing silently. He lifted his head. “He did, yes, without actually saying it quite so bluntly. I managed to avoid answering - none of his bloody business after all – but I don’t mind discussing it with you.”

I shrugged. “Don’t need to. I don’t care why you do it. I just like it when you do.”

He stared at me. “Not because you like the pain as much, but because –”

Too much talking. Wanted him. “Because it’s you, Giles. That’s all.” It wasn’t, but it could keep. His cock was hard against me and I wanted him. Badly.

He studied me and nodded, accepting it. “I thought you deserved this,” he ran his hand over the welt on my backside, “and I still think you were indiscreet, but...fine. You get to choose something you want me to do to you, or you to me.”

He lay back and relaxed, tucking his arms behind his head and smiling at me lazily. “You do the hard work for a change,” he said.

I propped myself up on my elbow and looked him over, running a finger from the hollow at his throat to his cock, circling around it and not touching it.

“Going to fuck you, Giles.” His gaze never wavered. Don’t think he even blinked. “Going to get inside you, going to be me who joins us, me who comes in you. Going to show you what you’ve made me feel these last few weeks.”

I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Do you trust me to make you scream, Giles? Just this once? Scream my name, until it’s all you can think of, the way I do yours? Do you think I can do that to you?”

He turned his head so our mouths were an inch apart. “Do it now.” Strong, commanding voice. No.

I shook my head. Waited.

“Please, Spike.”

Fucking nearly came right then.