Ease My Pain

The door closed behind a Willow who seemed to be trailing chocolate chips wherever she walked and Giles sighed, settling back on the couch and putting his feet up. Peace. Blissful silence and solitude after a very stressful day...

"That's right, Rupert, act like you're the only one who suffered today."

Ah. Houseguests don't leave when everyone else does. How could he have forgotten that?

"I went blind," Giles reminded him. "I'd say as traumas go, mine was the worst, actually. Xander's used to fighting off demons after all."

Spike swept Giles' feet off the couch and sat down heavily, giving Giles an incredulous look. "Hello? I spent the day billing and cooing and hard as a rock because your precious Slayer's a bloody prick tease!"

Giles sat upright. "Spike, may I remind you –"

"No, you may not," Spike snapped. "I want to forget all about it, thank you very much. Christ!" He shuddered. "This gets out, I'm dead." Giles raised an eyebrow and Spike sighed. "Deader then. Point is, there's standards. Lines that don't get crossed. Do you really think a vampire can shag a Slayer and let her walk away and still get complimentary drinks at Willie's? Don't think so, mate. I'll be a laughing stock."

Giles frowned. "But you didn't sha –"

"That's even worse!" Spike hissed. "And we might not have done the deed, but we, we..."

He seemed to be having trouble getting his words out and Giles smiled with gentle sadism. "Cuddled? Canoodled? Dripping nauseatingly sweet endearments into each other's ears?"

"Oh for fuck's sake!"

Spike looked distraught and Giles felt a tiny – very tiny – pang of pity.

"I sincerely doubt that Buffy will be keen on sharing the story, Spike. Your reputation – the shreds of it that are left anyway – are safe."

Somehow Spike didn't look reassured. "That Willow," he said, with the words bursting out of him. "You want to watch her, mate. Doing spells like that all willy-nilly."

"Yes," Giles said thoughtfully. "It was quite advanced..."

"Advanced? Is that all you can think of?" Spike leaned forward and poked his finger into Giles' chest. "She could have said anything, Giles. Could've said, 'Oh if Giles wants Spike back that badly, why don't they just fuck already.' Ever think about that?"

"Well, I am now," Giles said tartly. "Thank you, Spike. Coming on top of at least three cookies too many, it's not a pleasant thought."

Spike's eyes widened and Giles had the rare – and pleasurable – experience of seeing him lost for words for a full three seconds.

"The thought of fucking me makes you feel sick?"

"I don't think I'd put it quite that strongly –" Giles demurred, wondering just why Spike was so upset. "On the other hand, it does take deviancy to a whole new level."

Spike's voice went from dangerously calm to outraged and bat-high squeaky in two words.

"Excuse me?"

Giles was starting to enjoy himself. "Let me list the ways," he said dreamily. "First, you're technically dead – a walking corpse inhabited by a demon –"

Spike bit his lip, drawing Giles' attention to just how full it was. Buffy had spent a lot of time nipping and sucking and licking at it, he remembered. He'd seen quite a lot of that before the last of his vision had faded. Not that he'd been staring of course...

"Technically I'm undead, Watcher. Don't they teach you anything? Whole different thing."

Giles waved his hand dismissively. "No heartbeat, precious little brain activity –"


"You came to me for help in extremis," Giles reminded him. "That's the definition of stupid."

"Not from where I'm sitting," Spike said smugly. "I got it, didn't I?"

Giles conveniently became deaf for the moment needed to be able to ignore that telling point. "Where was I? Dead, which makes sex with you definitely kinky and on the illegal side, either considerably younger, or older, depending on which way one cares to look at it –"

"It stops mattering after a certain point, you know," Spike murmured. He wasn't indignant anymore, Giles realised, watching Spike settle down, leaning his shoulder against the back of the couch, sitting close enough that his knees were brushing against Giles' thigh. In fact, Spike was starting to look almost complacent for some inexplicable reason. "Go on."

"Sworn mortal enemy," Giles said. "I've been trained to stake creatures like you. Dedicated my life to watching over the Slayer and making her better at, uh, staking, uh, –"

"Creatures like me," Spike supplied. "Think you're repeating yourself, Rupert. Mortal enemies, right. Which is why you brought me a cuppa this morning and ran my kit through the washer. Got it. Carry on."

Giles frowned. "I've finished," he said stiffly. "I think I've covered the salient points, don't you? Quite enough there to make it very clear why the idea's disturbing, if not exactly nauseating."

Spike was silent for a moment. "You missed one out," he said eventually.

"I don't think so. You're a vampire; you're not likely to have any diseases." Giles pursed his lips in thought. "That's quite interesting, really. Obviously your body offers no viable haven for a germ, but –"

Spike cut him off mid-theory with an impatient sound. "I'm a male vampire."

"That... wouldn't be a problem," Giles said. Spike was staring at him now, lips parted. God, that mouth of his was – Giles forced himself to imagine it filled with blood-smeared fangs, which worked better than cold showers.

"Oh," Spike said quietly. "Like that, is it?"

"Sometimes," Giles said, knowing very well that Spike would fill in the blanks. "And it's not something of which I'm ashamed, so trying to use it to blackmail me into –"

"Pretend you are," Spike said.


Spike ran his tongue with deliberate slowness across that fucking kissable, bitable bottom lip and recited carefully, "Fuck me, or I'll tell your Slayer and every one of the sodding Scoobies what you are, Rupert."

"Oh no," Giles said swiftly before his mouth said anything stupid like 'Strip. Now'. "I really don't think so. Weren't you listening to the list?"

"Yeah. None of it bothered your Slayer; with Angel, or with me today."

"I really don't think that you can compare yourself with -"

"What, Angel's different? Still dead. Still the enemy. Still way too fucking old for her. Didn't matter, and Rupert, you mention that fucking soul of his and I swear I'll work through the chip-pain and bite you. Soul doesn't mean a thing to a Slayer with her knickers wet."

"I'm not Buffy," Giles said coldly. "My desires are considerably less urgent than a hormonally driven teenager."

"I bet. And you're not under a spell and you're not in love." Spike yawned theatrically. "Got any more 'nots' for me? No? Suppose we get to 'ares' instead. Like the bit where you are thinking about it, and you are gagging for it and you're –"

"Shut up," Giles suggested pleasantly enough, given that his hands were trembling and balled into fists to disguise it. "I'm going to bed."

He'd lain staring at the darkness for twenty minutes when Spike appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Didn't chain me up, Rupert."

Giles lay in tense silence.

"Those chains weren't to keep me from running, were they? Not when I came here of my own free will."

"At first they were," Giles said, the words husk-dried in his throat.

"And now? To keep me from not being here?" Spike asked. "In your room? By your bed?"

Giles had blinked and missed the shift of position that brought Spike, wearing nothing but a black T-shirt that skimmed the curl of hair between his legs, no more, to the side of his bed.

"Perhaps." Giles was proud of the fact that his voice was steady, with Spike's cock, erect and curving impudently up, within reach of his hand and mouth.

"So did you forget?"

Spike's persistence was annoying, Giles thought desperately, trying to cling to a negative emotion.


"You trust me?"


He didn't have to think about that. Spike chuckled. "Honestly? Wouldn't have believed you if you'd said anything else."

"Why are you doing this?" Giles asked tightly. "Wounded vanity?" He flung back the covers. He'd gone to bed naked, unable to bear the thought of wrapping himself up in flannel and cotton, and he knew there was more than enough light for Spike to see him. See that he was hard. "Flattering enough for you?"

Spike dropped unselfconsciously to his knees beside the bed and ran his finger along the length of Giles' erection, making it jump and twitch. "It's a start."

"What is?"

Spike's tongue traced the path his finger had blazed and Giles shuddered at the cool, wet touch. "Getting hard thinking about me and not reaching for a bucket."

"The bucket's never been needed," Giles said dryly, regaining a small measure of control as Spike lifted his head, leaning his folded arms on the bed. "Some tissues perhaps."

"Won't need them tonight," Spike promised him. "I'll take care of the mess."

"I think that might be beyond your powers," Giles said with a sigh. "I can't, Spike. The consequences..."

"What consequences? We fuck tonight, tomorrow you can pretend it never happened."

Giles rolled his eyes. "So very easy, that. I don't think so, Spike. You're tempting, for many reasons, but not quite that much. Not enough to lose the respect of my Slayer. Not enough to betray my calling."

"You're using that 'not' word again," Spike said glumly, resting his chin on his folded arms. He brightened, turning his head to look up at Giles, seemingly at ease with what Giles was starting to feel was excessive amounts of nudity. At least with Spike kneeling he was spared the sight of pale skin and hard cock. "Go on then: you told me why fucking me was depraved; tell me why it's tempting."

"Spike, really!" Giles protested, reaching for the covers.

Strong fingers flashed out and gripped his wrist. "No. Already seen all you've got and you're not cold so no point, is there?"

"Let go of me," Giles said softly. Spike's hand tensed and then relaxed, slipping away and taking the short-cut so that his fingers slid and scratched gently over Giles' stomach and upper thigh, missing Giles' erection by so small a space that the expectation left Giles shaken.

Leaving the covers where they were, Giles sighed. "Tempting because you're forbidden. Tempting because you're physically appealing. Tempting because you're safe and yet not, and I grew up hearing stories about what it was like to fuck a vampire that left me curious."

"Yeah?" Spike grinned. "Huh. Don't s'pose you want to share?"

Giles smiled. "I don't think so. And I'm certain three-quarters of them were apocryphal. Especially the ones involving our teachers at the Academy."

"It does happen though," Spike told him. "Places here in Sunnydale where you can swap a pint of blood for more than a cookie and a glass of juice and get out alive... usually."

"I know," Giles said. "Risky, as many have discovered, I'm sure, but far from uncommon."

The conversation was distracting him enough that his erection was mercifully beginning to flag but it was a temporary relief.

"So consider this research," Spike murmured, pressing a kiss against Giles' stomach and following it with another. "Write it up for a paper or something. Call me 'Vampire X' or something."

"I don't think so," Giles managed, as Spike's mouth on his skin brought him back to a state of painful arousal.

"I don't kiss and tell," Spike said, managing to kiss around Giles' cock, flat against his stomach, without touching it.

"I think that's exactly what you'd do," Giles said. "At the earliest, most inconvenient opportunity."

"Then it's already too late," Spike pointed out. "Rupert, all I can taste is you." Without warning he nuzzled into the soft folds at the base of Giles' cock, his mouth and nose pressing against Giles' balls. "Got your scent. I could track you down, find you anywhere." He leaned his cheek against Giles' leg, staring up at him. "You've already done enough to damn you in their eyes, and somehow I don't think you care about any other consequences."

"Why are you doing this?" Giles asked desperately, feeling a prickle of heat sweep over him, leaving his skin damp and fevered.

Spike rubbed his face almost affectionately against Giles' leg, but there was no kindness in his voice as he asked, "Why are you letting me?"

"Because..." Giles swallowed a sound that was close to a sob of frustration and gave up. "I'm not. We're not doing this."

"We've been doing this since you chained me in that bloody bath of yours, Giles. Don't tell me you didn't get off on that."

"I –" He couldn't lie to Spike, he found. Not because it was undignified and dishonest, but because it was pointless. "Yes. I did. Of course I did."

"Course you did," Spike echoed with the plangent sweetness of a tolling bell. His exhaled words caressed Giles' skin. "You can let me do this, Giles. I want to."


Spike just chuckled, the sound drowsy and low, a bumblebee buzzing by, replete with nectar, in a summer meadow with the heavy heat a blanket....

"Why?" Giles asked again, the word sharper.

Spike sucked his finger into his mouth and then pressed it against the top of Giles' cock, cool wetness to warm slickness. "Fucking a Slayer's forbidden. Fucking a Watcher? Oh, Giles, you don't know how wrong that is..." The finger, glistening with more than spit, slid back into Spike's mouth.

"You get off on it because it's perverted?"

"No. Doesn't really mean anything to me, does it?"

"You said it was wrong..." Giles was trying to cling to the thread of the discussion even though the slow, wet slide of Spike's finger was making him drunk with lust.

"Wrong from your end," Spike clarified, using his damp finger to draw a lop-sided heart on Giles' hip.

Enlightenment was surprisingly satisfying and removed a lot of Giles' inchoate suspicions. "Ah. You get off on corrupting me."

"Well, yeah," Spike drawled in a 'water is wet' voice. "I'm –"


"Too bloody right I am."

A silence fell, as if both of them had run out of words to persuade or deny, and then Spike sighed, the bed creaked and Giles was staring up at Spike's face, the hem of Spike's T-shirt brushing against his stomach and Spike's cock lined up against his own.

"I'll make it easy, Giles," Spike whispered as his cock nudged and rubbed and slid while his face smiled blankly. "Make it simple." His teeth bit into his lip again and his eyes closed. "Fuck, you feel good..."

As compliments went, it wasn't bad, Giles reflected, dizzy with want and driving his nails into his palms as he fought to stay still, when he knew just what tilt of his hips would make it feel infinitely better for both of them, when he longed to match and meet those slow thrusts with his own.

"This – what you're doing – what you're not doing – just as wicked, just as wrong," Spike said. "Sins of omission, Rupert."

"Might as well be hung for a sheep, as a lamb, you mean," Giles said, with a final flicker of defiance.

Spike grinned. "Whatever you say." The smile faded down to a gentle, meaningful curl of his lips. "Really. Whatever you say."

"Even if I tell you to leave?"

Spike bent his head and bit Giles' chest, the soft scrape of his teeth digging a groan out of Giles. "You'll have to find that out the hard way, love."

The endearment, uttered without the slightest amount of feeling, jarred but couldn't break the wanting and the need that kept Giles silent.

He put his hands on Spike's shoulders, feeling the bones press up sharply through the cool skin, and pushed him down.

Just before Spike's mouth took him, their eyes met and Giles said harshly. "Not like that. Change."

Yellow wiped away blue in Spike's eyes and Giles slid his hand under the pillow and closed his fingers tight, tight, tighter around the waiting stake.

Spike was safe but old habits die hard.


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