Behind Closed Doors





Chapter One

This revised version of Behind Closed Doors owes a huge debt to Kindkit, who took on the task of beta reading it at a very late stage and made so many invaluable suggestions and comments. Thanks also to Kyllikki who gave it one last read through for me and Psychodragon82 for the beautiful picture.





He left me on the bed and told me not to move. He did that sometimes; never for long and it wasn’t a problem, not really. Staying still when he was in the room and I could see him, hear him, feel his scent in the air like – oh, like Giles, warm and strong and dangerous – that was trickier. He smelled like my coat looks and sliding into it always got me hard because it smelled of him. Should have done. He’d fucked me on it often enough.

Trouble was, while he was getting himself a drink (one glass of wine usually, that he drank slowly while he was getting me how he wanted me, so that seeing the glass ready to be washed, with the dregs lying like a puddle of blood at the bottom, made me remember, made me ready), the phone rang. Instead of telling them he’d call them back later, whoever the fuck they were, he started talking. Bastard. He knew I was waiting, knew I was lying there on the bed, his bed, our bed, arms by my side, legs spread just a little, nothing to stare at but the ceiling, nothing to listen to but his voice. He didn’t even sound impatient. Lots of long silences as he listened and then his voice giving instructions, orders...if I wasn’t already hard, that would’ve done the trick. So I waited, being good, well, being obedient, knowing if I was I’d get a reward and, yeah, wanting to please him, because that’s what it all came down to in the end.

He laughed.  Lying there with my cock stiff, my balls getting tight and he laughed as if there was all the time in the world to chat. Then I got to thinking. He left me much longer, I was going to come about three seconds after he touched me, three seconds after he brushed against me with that mouth of his or laid his hand flat, the way he does just before he – and if I came now, I’d last that much longer and that’d please him. He was still talking; I had time.

Never been too bright. I closed my eyes after my fingers curled around my cock. Had to. Just felt so good, wanking, listening to him, thinking about what he’d do to me...about to come and thinking that I’d have to be careful, clean up fast, using tissues so he wouldn’t taste it in my mouth...and the bugger walked in on me.

Vampire senses are handy, but just because you can hear something doesn’t mean you’re listening, and I was busy.

He stared at me, a flicker of anger in his eyes, and I shivered and went very still, not even daring to let my hands go to where they should be. He was holding the wine and it seemed darker tonight, almost black in the dim light. I waited, cursing myself, him, the jerk on the phone. But I’m stupid sometimes, and I liked to push him and watch him come back at me stronger, harder than ever. He never let me down. Oh, shit. That made me feel guilty.

“I’m sorry, Spike,” he said, his voice dry and quiet. “I hadn’t realised that extending the time you had to wait by, what, three minutes or so, would place such a burden on you. I do apologise.” Sarcastic bugger.

I shrugged, which was a mistake as my hands are attached to my arms and they moved when my shoulders did, which meant my cock got a nice little tug. Chalk it up to decades of practice in survival, but I managed not to come. “Was just making sure I’d last longer later on,” I said.

Will I ever learn to shut up? Doubt it. The spark of annoyance flared into temper, real, pissed off, irritated temper. Fuck. He turned and began to walk away, face cold and I called out. “Giles? Where are you going?” I wanted to follow him but I hadn’t been given permission to leave the bed.  

He paused, didn’t turn around and said, still in that fucking quiet voice, the one that rubs against me like his fingers do, “I’m punishing you, Spike. Finish jerking off if you like. Do whatever you want. I won’t be here for the next –” He paused, considering, and then said, “Twenty four hours.”

The indifference in his voice had me close to begging. Angelus could make me plead after torturing me for hours, but that’s not much of an achievement after all; Giles found out that I can put up with anything as long as I’m not being forgotten, ignored, left out...When he said he wasn’t going to be there, he didn’t mean he was leaving the house. He meant he was going to act as if I had. No touching, no talking, no eye contact. If I got in his way, he’d step around me; if I tried to touch him he’d add on an hour...he’d done it before, but never often and never for that long. I didn’t think I could do it, but what scared me the most was that I wasn’t sure he could either.

And that terrified me. He’d painted himself into a fucking corner here and it was all my fault. Guilt. Love and guilt. Go together so wonderfully fucking well they do.

I left the bed, knowing he’d make me pay for that; he never forgot anything and that was part of why I loved him, knowing he wouldn’t let me get away with anything, no matter how small. Left it, got in front of him, not touching him, held his eyes for a second and slid down to my knees. He was dressed, always was until he set the glass aside, and I wanted to take the clothes off him slowly, feel his body against me, feel his heartbeat thud gently against my chest, let my hands touch him, the hair on his chest tickling me, the muscles under the skin moving as he twisted and arched and said my name and –

Didn’t know what to do, just looked up at him and put it all into my face; the panic, the desperation and yeah, little bit of sorry, because, fine, I’d been...not good.

His face didn’t soften, not even a little, thank Christ. My Giles. Mine. No one ever knew me this well and he’s so fucking good at this.

“Isn’t this charming penitence a little theatrical?”

It didn’t matter what he said, as long as he was talking. I dropped my eyes so he didn’t see the relief and heard his breath hiss out angrily. Quickly I raised my eyes and didn’t hide it, any of it, saw him nod. “Better,” he commented. “So; you want a second chance? You want mercy and forgiveness and all that crap?”

“Want you,” I whispered and really, there wasn’t anything else to say.

His fingers drummed against his leg and the cloth of his trousers moved, brushing against my face. I swallowed then and clenched my fists, starting to shake. He let me stay like that, kneeling, wide open and then he jerked his head.

“Bed. On your stomach.”

He didn’t say ‘now’. Giles never bothered with the unnecessary words. But he told me he loved me every day.

And he left me. Left me with arms and legs spread wide, drifted a line of talcum powder around me so he could tell if I’d moved, and didn’t come back until he’d finished the whole bottle of wine.

And when he did he wasn’t carrying his glass; he was empty handed. All the better to spank me with. And he did, his hand landing with a crack, his voice whispering to me, telling me exactly what he was going to do when my arse was red enough to suit him and I lay there knowing that his hand would end up sore, but he wouldn’t use anything else on me, wouldn’t let the pain swallow up the shame. And when he was done, he rolled me over and wrapped that hot, stinging palm around my cock and I came then, came when he smiled at me, came when he kissed me.

***

The next night, we were in the graveyard patrolling, just us. It was always an adjustment, leaving the house; Giles let me say and do stuff outside or in company that would have got me in trouble when we were alone. I had to be careful not to push it too far though; it wasn’t like he wouldn’t remember it once the door was closed behind us and we were alone again.

We’d been discussing the rise in numbers of horned demons, and I was telling him about a clan of them I’d run into before he was born, just chatting, our version of shop talk, when he said, “I want you to come for me tonight.”

I stopped and swung around to stare at him. “You say that like it’s a challenge. Since when –”

He smiled and shook his head. “You’ll see,” he said mildly.

I narrowed my eyes and took a step towards him. He hesitated – which puzzled me a bit as there was no one lurking – and then let me get in close enough to kiss him. His lips were hard and hungry but he didn’t rush it. He kissed me up and ready, hands all over me, pulling me against him so I could feel his cock. He was rock solid. Knowing he’d been walking beside me like that and hadn’t let it creep into his voice made me feel wary and impressed all at once.

He let me go, grinned, pulled me back for one last kiss, bruisingly fast, his tongue arrowing inside my mouth, his teeth nipping at my lip, and then took a step back and nodded at the path. “Let’s keep going, shall we?”

We carried on walking and I waited. Ahead, I could hear voices. Xander and Anya. Fuck. I wanted to take Giles somewhere, take care of his problem, and let him take care of me. Giles leaned in, not touching me and said quietly. “Did I mention you’re going to have to come without being touched? By anyone or anything?” He let that sink in and then said casually as they sauntered up, “There’s a time limit of course.”

I just had chance to say, “How long?” through gritted teeth, before they descended. Giles looked at me, and his eyes were fucking twinkling. “That’s on a need to know basis, Spike, and you don’t. Just do your best.”

I was all set to argue but his eyes went flat as if he’d been waiting for me to try, and I looked away.

“Spike giving you trouble?” Xander said, giving me one of his glares. Demon world talks of nothing else around the campfires. Scary eyes they are. If you’re three years old maybe.

Giles smiled. “He wouldn’t dream of it, would you, Spike?”

I smirked at him. He hates that look on my face, but Christ, he’d asked for it tonight. Giles pursed his lips and told them to piss off. Didn’t use those exact words, which means it took twice as long, but same result. As soon as they were out of earshot, he put one finger on my shoulder and pushed down. It wouldn’t have popped a soap bubble but I went to my knees.

“Spike, are you under the impression that your lack of focus the other night pleased me? Or that I’ve forgotten you left a place you’d been told to stay in?”

Fuck. I fucking knew he’d bring that up. I shook my head. It was tilted back. He liked to see my face, didn’t like giving me anywhere to hide. He doesn’t switch the lights off until he’s ready to sleep and he doesn’t blindfold me unless he’s feeling kind.

“Good. Well then. This is an exercise in focus. Since you seem to be confused, I’ll repeat myself. I dislike that. It wastes time. You will come for me because this –” He raised his foot and pressed the toe of his shoe against me, not hard, enough to make my cock twitch and stir. His Master’s voice. Oh, yeah. “This is my toy, not yours. You played with it and didn’t ask me. That’s really not good enough.” He smiled. “It’s not easy to come without being touched, Spike. You know that. Visuals and imagination can do so much but your cock doesn’t really care about anything but my hand around it, squeezing tight, my mouth on it, sucking it hard, my cock against it.” The smile went almost prim for a moment. “Perhaps we can teach it to be a little less...dependent.”

I must have groaned, something, because his lips twitched and yes, the bastard was amused. The dew wet grass was soaking my jeans, my cock was hard but nowhere near coming and there was a clock ticking and I didn’t know when it was going to chime.

“Two questions?” I asked. He considered this and then nodded agreeably, motioning me up. “How long and what happens if I can’t?”

Giles sighed. “Do you really think knowing the penalty for failure will help to spur you on?”

I thought. I’m pretty good at stuff like this. Probably because he never asked for anything I couldn’t do and he knew what that was better than I did. That means he hadn’t had to punish me often for failing. I sometimes wondered if he even bothered to think the punishments up until he needed them – but this was Giles. Git probably had a list somewhere, in perfect alphabetical order. I started to think what would come first and drifted off a little. His annoyed cough brought me back and I smiled at him, being as charming as I could. It worked enough to smooth the irritated frown away but that was all.

“Tell me,” I said, trying for meek, settling for curt.

“The time limit is set. You don’t need to know it.”

“What the fuck-?”

He wasn’t going to touch me again, I knew that, but he wasn’t going to let me get away with that either. Giles caught in a dilemma. That’s a sight to see. Except I couldn’t, because he moved behind me, swung his foot brutally hard into the hollow behind my knee and brought me down, teeth clenched to stop from howling.

“You will mind your manners, Spike. Is that clear?”

A dozen snappy answers crawled into my mouth and lay there, bitter and poisonous. I spat them out – not literally; didn’t want him taking it for defiance – and looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”

Those words – and three others – fucking killed me to say them sometimes. Saved me this time from anything worse than not getting my questions answered, though. He walked off as the others came back, squabbling noisily about something so dull it’d send you to sleep if you listened for more than a minute, with an impatient flick of his fingers to get me moving, and I followed him to where Xander and Anya were waiting, still baffled.

Xander and Anya were ready to go home and I wasn’t going to stop them. I was still hard; Giles hurting me did that every time if he was doing it right and that qualified, but though I was concentrating I really didn’t think I could give him what he wanted. Wasn’t even sure what it was. They buggered off finally and Giles glanced around. “Quiet tonight,” he remarked.

Conversation? Well, OK. Talking I was good at. I opened my mouth and he smiled at me kindly. “That was more of an order than an observation, by the way.”

Ah.

He set off, walking fast and I followed. That set up some nice friction, not enough to do the job but tight jeans can be your friend and this was one of those times. Giles caught on after one glance at me. He stopped dead, glanced down and reached for me, unzipping my jeans, and folding back the material until my cock was getting some fresh air. He nodded thoughtfully and then stopped me as I tried to huddle my coat around me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

The December air was cool, tickling and teasing my exposed skin, but that was the least of my worries right then as I strode along, praying to assorted deities that we wouldn’t meet anyone I couldn’t kill very fast, as my arms were folded behind my back, holding my coat tucked behind me. Felt like a total wally but Giles looked smugly pleased and the look in his eyes when he glanced down at my cock was enough to make me feel warm, no matter how cold it was. He told me once that he couldn’t look at me without wanting me. About as poetical as he gets, but it stuck with me when I can’t remember past “mellow fruitfulness” after a century of reading Keats.

He took me to the last place I expected: my old crypt, and pushed open the door as if he knew it would be empty. He’d gone out earlier in the day without saying where. The place was a mess but it looked as if he’d cleaned out a nest. I recognised the signs of a fight. I turned on him, angry as hell. “Did you come here by yourself?”

His eyes widened. He’d told me to be quiet; I was already in deep shit and I was shouting at him? Then I suppose he saw the worry and I knew this once he’d forgive me. Well, that was the theory anyway. His hand lifted and for a moment I thought he was going to hit me and tried not to flinch with shock. It hovered and he stroked the air by my cheek, not touching me. I leaned into it like a cat, eyes closed and then snapped back to attention.

He pointed to the slab of stone I used to sleep on sometimes, back when this was my home. It was covered in a thick quilt. The one from our bed. “Strip and lie down over there,” he said, pulling up a chair and sitting in it. I did as I was told, wanting him, wanting this to be over with so I could hold him. Being kept away from someone who drove insane with lust by the way he turned the pages in his fucking books...that was more than I could take. I wanted to be by him, near him, able to touch him. Starved me when I couldn’t. He still hadn’t told me what he’d do if I failed but there was one thing I knew wasn’t on that list; he might punish me by ignoring me sometimes but he’d never made me sleep away from him. I’d spent nights lying next to a coldly turned back but he was still there, still breathing softly, still giving off heat and still with me. And his anger never lasted into the morning.

I lay there and he said softly, “Breathe in.” I obeyed him and the scent poured up from the soft material, rich and warm. Giles is fastidious and we get this quilt messy, but I won’t let him wash it as often as he wants. Sleeping surrounded by our scents is like being fucked all night. The scent now was mostly him though and I looked at him, my eyes widening.

“I stayed a little after I dispatched the vampires.”

Stayed and jerked off, thinking about what he was going to do. Stayed and came all over where I was lying. I pictured him doing it, trousers pushed down just enough, both hands moving fast, ruthless, impatient hands, his hips jerking, his face set and then he’d have made that noise, that gasp he does...

“Good.”

I looked at him in surprise as he spoke and realised that my hands were fisted in the fabric and my cock was quivering.

“You’re ideally suited for this. Senses honed, vampire enhanced abilities; really you’ve become terribly lazy, you know. You don’t need a helping hand at all.”

I couldn’t agree with that, but I had enough sense not to argue. I closed my eyes to concentrate and he began to talk.

“No, you don’t really need me at all. Don’t need my hands on you, sliding over your body, finding every place that gives you pleasure, remembering every place that gives you pain...don’t need my tongue and mouth and teeth dragging out even more sensation from that pale skin of yours, skin that marks so well but forgets so fast...” The marks faded, but he was wrong if he thought I forgot. “Or perhaps you do need me, Spike? You may answer that.”

I was so hard...his voice was driving into me like his cock did, every word a stroke, every sentence hitting home. “Need you, Giles. Always need you.” Thank God he never made me call him anything but Giles when we were doing this...saying his name filled my mouth the way fresh blood did, warming me, feeding me, making me feel alive. “Giles? Let me talk? Please, I can do it if you –”

I was pleading, not asking and he knew it. He came over, close enough to feel him surround me and knelt beside the stone bed so that our faces were level. “Talk to me,” he said.

I closed my eyes for a second and then opened them, looking at him. I never knew how hard it was for him not to look away, ever, but he never did, always kept his eyes on me. If he could do that, so could I. Not that he gave me a choice.

“I need you and you know it. Need you to touch me, hold me, but not just to come. Christ, Giles, that’s nothing! Last night I wasn’t bothered about coming - I was bored, I was angry, I didn’t want to share you. I’m not...I’m not good at waiting, sharing. I’m hard now, just like you wanted. You’ve made me this way, the things you’ve said, the way you’ve looked at me, controlled me. You fucking own me, you know? I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. I’d die for you; I’d die of fucking love for you if you sent me away. I’m yours, Giles.”

I was empty and I couldn’t see his face anymore so I blinked and felt cool wetness slip down my face.

He leaned in, so close that his lips were mine if I moved, but I held still.

“And you’re mine, Spike,” he said. “I love you.” He stared at me. “Come for me.”

I closed my eyes and I just couldn’t...quite... “Help me, Giles. Please? ”

He sighed with satisfaction and laughed quietly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

I was there expecting a touch, a kiss, now that I’d solved his riddle. Instead, he lay beside me, still not letting me feel him, and said, “I’ve been hard for hours thinking of you. I’ve been watching you, talking to you, hard all the time. It’s hurting me, I want you so badly. I’m aching, I’m hurting...and I’m not going to come until you do.” I stared at him in disbelief. “When you come, I’m going to be on you faster than even you can move. I’m going to be inside you while you’re still coming, going to bury myself in you and fuck you until you’re screaming out my name, and I’m crying out yours. Until we’re one. Now will you come, you stubborn, infuriating ...”

So I came and afterwards, as we lay there, with Giles’ shoulder under my head, I looked at the walls that used to keep me safe and remembered the last time we’d been here together and how this had started, and my hand clutched at his arm, just remembering how his blood had stained the summer-warm air.


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