Short Straw

Angel grinned as Wesley held up the short straw, his dark eyes alight with anticipation. “Now, how did that happen?”

“You cheated?” Spike drawled, taking a long drink from his bottle of beer. “Same way you cheated with Spin the Bottle, so you and Wes got to pucker up every time it was your go, same way you cheated with Pin the Tail on the Pin Up so your sticky thingummy –”

“Post-it,” Giles supplied, returning to his seat and handing Xander a beer.

“Your Post-it – what a bloody stupid name – landed smack bang on Mr January’s arse so you got to rim Wes for five minutes...I’d ask how dumb you think we are, but if you were truthful, Xander’d get hurt and we can’t have that.” He blew a kiss at Xander who glared at him and held up the key to the handcuffs that linked Spike’s slim wrists in front of him. Spike, who thought the forfeit for being first out in Musical Chairs was a pain in the backside, was moodily determined not to give Xander – the winner - the satisfaction of either a blow job, or the begging to be allowed to give it – Christ! Who thought that one up? Oh, yeah. Giles. Figured – that would release him. He mopped at the beer he’d spilled down his front and subsided.

“I’m not cheating,” Angel said, “I’m just lucky for once.” He looked insufferably virtuous. “And how can anyone cheat at Pass the Parcel?”

Xander beat Spike to the snort. “Want the list of ways alphabetically, or from most to least likely to get past Willow’s mom?”

“And besides,” Giles objected. “Who’s going to be the one who doesn’t get to play? Who sits, back turned, and switches off the music at random intervals –”

“While we have the fun of stripping Wes nice and slow every time it does. Yeah. Thanks for volunteering, Giles.”

“Spike, you try my patience.” Giles let his eyes roam Wesley’s body, now fully clothed in preparation for the game. Wesley, who had been forbidden to speak until he apologised to Xander for tickling him in Musical Statues, grinned at Giles and ran a teasing hand over the erection he hadn’t been allowed to touch until the full extent of Spike’s blatant use of his thumb in the Egg and Spoon race had been thoroughly thrashed out. Giles moaned and said firmly, “I’m not sitting this one out. Let me see...Right. Simple enough. We’ll blindfold Wesley who will sit in the centre of the circle with the tape recorder. Yes, I’m aware it doesn’t actually contain a tape, but a CD, Xander. Allow me my archaically amusing turns of phrase, please. He will turn the music off as we pass an object between us –”

“A banana?” Spike asked innocently.

“Right, that’s it.” Giles stood, hauled Spike to his feet, bent him over a chair and applied some gentle persuasion with the help of Angel’s belt. When Spike’s howls had died to a martyred whimper or two, the circle was formed, with some cookies as the object.

Angel tossed the packet of digestives up and caught them, ignoring Giles’ anguished protests that they’d all be crumbs by the time he’d finished, and then, as the music began, passed them to Xander, who passed them to Spike, who fumbled them, dropped them, picked them up again and generally made certain that when Wesley, smiling slightly, stopped the music, it was to Spike that he crawled.

“Well now. Here’s a choice. Where to begin.”

“Thirty seconds and then you lose your go,” Angel interrupted. “Get a sock and get on with it.”

Pouting, Spike brought his cuffed hands to one elegantly arched foot and tugged off a sock. Wesley wriggled his toes and Spike ran his finger across the sole of his foot. “Twenty seconds to play with you, love. Dru used to say there was this point you could press on a foot that would get a man screaming with pleasure...or pain...maybe both.”

“Save it for his left foot, Spike,” Giles said dryly. “Wesley: back to the centre.”

Wesley obeyed him and the music began again.

Giles next, who spent twenty five seconds kissing Wesley with the utmost virtuosity and five neatly folding the tie he’d taken from Wesley’s neck. Xander, whose eyes had been moving between Giles’ mouth and his busy left hand, blinked in surprised admiration of Giles’ multitasking abilities and sighed as he took the biscuits.

Angel, lips tight with disappointment, grabbed the biscuits from Xander, who ended up holding them a minute later as silence fell. He only managed to undo half the buttons of Wesley’s crisp, white shirt before his time ran out. Spike got the rest unfastened in his thirty seconds, rather hampered by the cuffs...and it was left to Giles to delicately peel it off, slowly exposing a back faintly marked with handprints from the previous game of ‘The Farmer’s in the Dell,’ in which, unaccountably, Wesley had ended up as the bone that got patted.

Angel was growling almost continuously now and Spike rolled his eyes. “It’s just a game,” he said mockingly, tossing the packet to Giles a split second after the music paused. “And it looks like Giles inherited your luck, that’s all.”

Wesley didn’t move towards Giles but lay back and parted his legs slightly, waiting patiently. Giles went to kneel beside him and deftly undid button and zip on Wesley’s trousers, clearly not intending to waste time. Wesley was bare underneath, his cock hard enough to send a ripple of sympathy and lust through the onlookers. Giles smiled and reached out –


“I won, Angel,” Giles said. “Stop being a brat.”

Angel folded his arms and looked stubborn. “He’s not naked.”

“Hate to side with the Broodmeister 2000,” said Xander, who did, in fact, bear a grudge after the bobbing for apples incident – slipped on the spilled water his ass; if Giles wasn’t man enough to admit he’d been feeling Wesley up, even when it led to Xander nearly drowning, well – “but he’s still wearing his watch.”

“Eyes like a hawk,” Spike murmured. “Misses anything under his nose though. Tell us all again how you really thought my chip had stopped working when I said I wanted to drain you dry?”

He was ignored. Wesley sat up, turning his head to place an apologetic and suspiciously accurate kiss on Giles’ pursed and pouting lips, and stabbed his finger down on the button to start the music.

Angel waited until the biscuits reached him and then simply held onto them until Wesley, the smile now a broad grin, switched off the music. Taking off the blindfold he turned to Xander and said briefly, “Sorry.”

“That’s it? That’s all I get?” Xander sulked.

“Yes,” Angel said, without taking his eyes off Wesley. “Spike, go beg for the honour of –”

“Sod that! Sooner spend my life wearing these things than –“”

“Oh, just put your mouth to a better use over in the corner,” Giles said moodily.

Spike gave him a charming smile. “Only if you take my mind off what I’m doing.” He cocked his head, “You don’t mind Giles fucking me while I suck you off, do you Xander?” He turned back to Giles. “Think we can take that incoherent burble for a ‘yes’. Oi, Harris. Key. Now. It’ll make things much more interesting if I’ve got the use of my hands, promise.”

Angel and Wes had been staring at each other, oblivious to the others. Wesley lifted up his hand and let Angel unbuckle his watch. “Oh, look,” he said, eyes dancing with amusement. “You won. Again.”

“It was you cheating, all the time,” Angel said, as enlightenment dawned. He frowned. “That’s, well, it’s very wrong, but I’ll overlook it.”

Wesley leaned in and ran his tongue over Angel’s lower lip. “Please don’t.”

Angel grinned. “Having fun, Wes?”

“Best birthday ever.”

“Tell me again why we’re celebrating it three weeks early?”

“So we can have our cake and eat it?” Wesley wondered.

Angel stood up. “Now that’s getting you the spanking I’d get on my birthday, if I’d let you, which I won’t, so don’t even think about it.”

Wesley sighed. “Best birthday ever.”

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